One Good Man
by Rorschach's Blot
Summary: On her final cruise, the Enterprise-A encounters a damaged ship filled with refugees and captained by Mirror Universe Khan Noonien Singh.
1. The Arrival

Disclaimer: "WWWWHHHHHHEEEEEEAAAAAATTTTTTTOOOOOOOONNNNNN!… WWWWHHHHHHEEEEEEAAAAAATTTTTTTOOOOOOOONNNNNN!"

The Arrival

Somewhere in Federation Space: stardate 2293.7

Kirk stepped onto the bridge and walked over to his seat. Their joyride had gone on long enough. It was time to order the old girl home for her decommissioning. He tried and failed to open his mouth to give the order several times before he managed to muster the will. As he began to speak the words that would doom his ship, every bit of his being wished for something, anything, to happen that would allow him to delay their return for even just a few minutes.

"Captain, I'm picking up a subspace disturbance off our starboard bow," Spock announced calmly. "It appears to be an interphasic rift."

Ask and ye shall receive. "On screen," Kirk ordered calmly, fighting to conceal his elation.

The crew watched as a ship with the characteristic saucer–atop–two–nacelles design of the Miranda class emerged, though it differed from a typical example in a number of ways.

Firstly, the ship was incredibly battered. Whoever was aboard that ship had been to Hell and back at least a dozen times over.

The evidence of untold hundred battles scarred its hull in between myriad telltale signs that wherever it had been had left was far outside the normal maintenance channels; barely an inch of the ship was intact. Kirk found himself recognizing paneling taken from Vulcan, Andorian, Klingon, Romulan, any number of sources the ship looked to have been pounded to death, brought back from the dead, and hammered to death again. Several times.

And secondly were the weapons.

Weapons of every conceivable shape, size and form studded the ship's ragged hide – and most of them were obviously salvaged and jury-rigged into place; no matter how mismatched, they had been cobbled onto the hull willy–nilly, lending the ship a strange aspect of hedgehog – there were enough of them that Kirk couldn't imagine how the ship's power plant would cope.

"It appears to have at one time been the _Reliant_ ," Spock announced, outwardly impassive, although Kirk immediately knew that his old friend was intrigued and more than a little concerned then exactly what he'd said sank in.

"What?" Kirk blurted. "But the _Reliant_ … Hail them."

"Yes, Captain," Uhura said from her place at the communication console. "I'm getting a response."

"On screen."

The screen flickered to reveal something resembling the standard bridge lay-out for a Federation ship–if, that is, one were to repeatedly devastate it and rebuild with whatever came handy.

At its center in the Captain's chair sat an elderly but still powerful-looking man. On his feet were a set of worn leather engineering boots over which sat a patched black set of trousers that resembled the old Star Fleet uniform bottom. An old-style phaser pistol in a worn shoulder holster sat atop a commando sweater, and the whole thing was topped by a much abused Aussie slouch hat. But it was the face that drew Kirk's attention, a face that was both familiar and terrifying, a face he'd last seen in his nightmares.

"Kirk," the man growled. The strange way the communications officer on the other ship had introduced themselves had lulled him into a false sense of hope, hope now dashed after seeing the hated face of his enemy. "I warn you, my ship may be damaged, but I am more than capable of destroying you should you attempt to harm those under my care."

"Khan!" the captain spat the name like an insult. "Shields up!"

"I do not wish to fight you again, Kirk," Khan calmly said, surrounded by an aura of cool menace, "I give you the chance now, just walk away. Leave and survive to fight another day, stay and know that I will destroy you. Stay and die or leave and I give you my word that I will not hunt you down like the dog that you are."

"Target—"

"Captain!" Spock interrupted insistently. "I do not believe this is the Khan we know!"

Kirk took a deep breath, fighting through his rage, and considered his old friend's words.

Spock was right. There was something different here.

"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship _Enterprise_. Who are you?"

"I am Khan Noonien Singh, renowned for being the most wanted man in the Terran Empire for most of its history." He made a mental note of the fact that his counterpart on the other ship gave a slight involuntary twitch at the words 'Terran Empire.' "If you are indeed who you claim to be it is my very great pleasure to make your acquaintance." The man's smile returned. "It seems we have some things to discuss."

"It seems that we do," Kirk agreed, exerting his iron will to prevent any visible reaction to the man's words as he remembered a particularly odd long–ago experience.

"Before we begin, dare I hope that you have a doctor on board your ship?" Khan asked.

"What do you need?" Kirk asked instantly. It wasn't the first time the captain of another ship had asked him that question, wasn't even the hundredth.

"We are carrying a large number of refugees and much of my crew was injured collecting them. I am requesting humanitarian aid from you, Kirk."

"Wait one," Kirk said, signaling for the transmission to be cut. "Suggestions?"

"It is an opportunity to gain first hand knowledge of their ship, Captain," Spock stated.

"An opportunity for them to take a hostage too," Kirk said sourly. "Do we have any way to prevent that from happening?"

"Aye, Captain, if they're willing to power down their shields completely, it would give me more than enough time to get back any personnel we send over," Scotty spoke up.

"Put him back on screen," Kirk ordered.

"Yes, Captain," Uhura agreed.

Khan smiled, his expression lacking any of the arrogance and superiority of his native counterpart's. "Have you decided what you want in return for the use of your doctor? Myself as a hostage perhaps?"

"No." There was no way in hell Kirk was going to let the man on his ship until he was one hundred percent sure of his intentions. "Are you willing to completely power down your shields?"

"If you are willing to do the same," Khan replied. "The Kirk I know would see the price of his doctor to be well worth my death." The man laughed. "At this point, I would gladly make the trade myself. What I refuse to do is put my passengers and crew at further risk."

"Deal," Kirk said, eyes locked on the man. "On the count of ten?"

"While we both watch the other with our sensors for any hint of betrayal," Khan agreed. "Your count or mine?"

"As I have suggested the method, you have the honor of the count," Kirk said, quoting the code duello with no little sarcasm.

IIIIIIIIII

Doctor McCoy was appalled at what he found on the other ship; not five minutes after he arrived he signaled the Enterprise he was quickly running through the supplies he'd brought. Triage was almost impossible with the way his hosts had distributed the wounded throughout the ship after they'd run out of space in the ship's tiny and poorly equipped med-bay. It seemed like every time he treated a patient there were ten more in line waiting for his attention.

Many of them were entirely too young – the obvious conclusions left him numb; they were but children, yet each one bore up with a strange, somehow elated sort of stoicism, even as they looked upon him with an edge of terror.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Khan's voice caused the old doctor to jump.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" McCoy barked. The earnest expression on the other man's face was more than a bit disconcerting. "What happened to them?"

"I rescued them from one of the most notorious extermination camps in the Empire," Khan calmly stated, in entirely the worst form of calm.

"They're children!" McCoy barked, horrified by the implications of what he'd just heard and the injuries he'd found on his new patients. "What kind of monsters …" the doctor trailed off.

"Crimes against the Terran Empire are punished for three generations up and down," Khan explained, his tone devoid of inflection. "The knowledge that any act of rebellion condemns not only your children, but your grandchildren and great grandparents, to a particularly gruesome death, is only one of the Empire's many tools of oppression."

"I hope you killed the bastards," McCoy said, sickened to his core.

"Every single one of them," Khan told him in a tone of deep satisfaction. "Every single one of them; I confess that we showed them more mercy than they had ever deserved – compared to what they were capable of a phaser bolt is an end entirely too kind for them, but I prefer my friends and comrades _clean_."

Clean. Doctor McCoy had never realized just how much meaning could be packed into that one little word.

"Good." The doctor's face looked as if it were carved from a block of wood. "I need to go back to the Enterprise for more people and supplies." Regretting bitterly the necessity of his captain's orders that he was not under any circumstance to order anything lest he be under duress. It was a reasonable precaution, he'd privately admitted even while hating the fact that he'd have to waste precious minutes returning to the ship.

"Whatever you need to make them better," Khan instantly agreed, "I will of course compensate you for everything used," he added. "I lack the local currency, but perhaps we could arrange a trade of some sort?"

Rage flashed in the Doctor's eyes. "I do need to be bribed to do my duty!"

"My apologies, Doctor. Intellectually, I know that this place is different from my own, but it is still difficult to believe."

"Just don't let it happen again," McCoy said sourly. He flipped out his communicator. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Scotty, directly to the sick bay."

Kirk arrived to meet Doctor McCoy shortly after he returned to the _Enterprise_. "Thoughts?"

"If you believe my patients, he's the greatest hero the universe has ever known," Bones replied, watching his staff assemble. "Can't say I'd argue with them if he really did rescue them from what he says he did – and the injuries fit."

"What sort of injuries are we talking?"

"The refugees show signs of prolonged torture, malnutrition, forced labor, sexual abuse," the doctor began, and the dam burst. "I...I found myself treating a catatonic five–year–old rape victim not half an hour ago...my God Jim, if I saw a man treating a _rat_ half as badly as those poor souls have been brutalized I don't know _what_ I'd do but it would _not_ be pretty...The crew injuries indicate that they were heavily involved in ground and ship combat. Phaser burns, injuries from overloading equipment, a few severely burned including two with plasma burns – and my God Jim, slugthrower injuries, I found myself _extracting bullets_. Who uses _slugthrowers_ in this day and age?"

"Those who have little other choice, for a start...You're absolutely certain that the crew isn't responsible for the injuries to the refugees?"

"In the last hour I have been informed by seventeen injured members of that ship's crew, including a young Klingon lady – a girl really, she can't be more than sixteen but my God _her eyes_ , I swear her eyes are _ten times her age_ with plasma burns so severe that I have absolutely no idea how she was remaining conscious let alone managing to speak, that if I brought harm to any of the refugees there would be nowhere I could hide...I have never been so certain in my life, Jim, those are good people over there and they need every last bit of help we can find them."

"Your hands are shaking, Bones."

"They won't once I'm working again."

IIIIIIIIII

At that moment in time, a conversation similar in character was taking place aboard the ship that had once been ISS _Reliant_.

"Doran..." Khan said, hesitant for all that he knew this conversation had to take place.

"Lord!" the severely injured Klingon girl gasped, attempting to rise to greet him, but he restrained her with a gentle hand on her unburned shoulder; they were both quite aware that if any other man in this universe or any other had replicated that gesture she would have removed the offending appendage at the shoulder, but her respect – nigh worship – for Khan overrode many things.

He was, for example, the only man who'd be able to survive demanding her respect – something he had never done, which was probably why he had every ounce of respect she had ever possessed.

"Save your strength," he advised her.

"Yes, Lord," she said.

"What was your impression of him?" Out of all his followers, she was the best judge of character.

"He has a distressing resemblance to The Butcher, but it is the same way that good air has a distressing resemblance to nerve gas."

"You believe the legends are true, then. A universe where good men rule..."

"Tara allowed him to touch her." That right there was all the proof they'd ever need.

"Rest, Doran, and heal; recover your strength."

"I will, Lord."

IIIIIIIIII

Doctor McCoy sighed in relief when the last of the critical cases stabilized. If nothing else, he could state that everyone was out of immediate danger. He turned to treat his next patient and nearly ran into a wall of muscle.

"Come this way please, Doctor," the large crewman said respectfully.

"I have patients to see to!" McCoy barked.

"The captain wants a word with you, Doctor McCoy." The crewman was impassive. "This way, please."

McCoy had worked himself into a terrifying rage by the time they got to the captain's quarters. "What's the big idea?! I still have work to do down there!" McCoy complained as soon as he stepped into Khan's quarters.

"Your chief nurse asked me to distract you," Khan explained. "I'd have told her no, but she looks like a formidable woman."

"She is," McCoy agreed, calming a bit. "Wouldn't bet on you in a fight with her even knowing about your so-called genetic superiority."

IIIIIIIIII

Khan had to force himself not to bust into deep chested laughter as he listened to the Doctor's tirade. It was wonderful, a dream, an impossibility. A man as good as his counterpart was evil A saint if the reports submitted by his own beleaguered medical staff were to be believed. If only his universe had been blessed with men such as he, men such as himself would not be necessary. It was a beautiful thought.

"Care for a drink, Doctor?" The augmented human opened a hidden panel to reveal a well-stocked cabinet. "I won't be insulted if you insist on using your medical tricorder to check for drugs and poisons."

"After what I just went through, I need a drink so badly I don't _care_ if it is poisoned," the doctor said gruffly, eyes peeled to find a bottle of bourbon.

"It may amuse you to know that in my universe, 'Kirk' is slang for a particularly foul venereal disease," Khan said with a straight face, figuring the doctor could use a laugh.

The doctor snorted in amusement as he gathered the things to make himself a mint julep. "What's 'McCoy' slang for?"

"Nothing," Khan said a bit too quickly, causing the doctor to look up sharply. "In the back left corner of the third shelf, you will find a silver cup. I took it from his office after I killed him. He was the camp doctor in a place that was in some ways, very much like the one I rescued the refugees from." In others, worse, much much worse.

McCoy was silent for a moment and then nodded his head. "That explains some of the reactions I got." More than one crewman had reflexively reached for a sidearm upon seeing him moving through the corridors. "I don't think there are words to describe how grateful I am that you killed him, because after what I've seen I would be honor bound to hunt him down and break my Hippocratic Oath."

Khan smiled, and suddenly it was as if the sun had come out on a cloudy day. "It is a long time, a very long time indeed, since last I heard that term. I...Thank you."

McCoy toasted the thought with the silver julep cup. "Here's to you getting those poor kids out of that godforsaken place." He drained the cup and began making himself another drink.

"Were you able to save them all?"

"Every last one," McCoy said proudly. "Your crew too. Didn't lose a single patient."

"In that case, I owe you a debt I can never hope to repay."

"No debts for doing my duty," McCoy said sharply.

"Still–"

"No," the doctor interrupted. "Do you think those kids owe you for saving them?"

"If anything, I owe them for taking so long," Khan said calmly.

"It's the same damn thing! It'll be a cold day in Hell before I agree to take a thing for following my oath."

"You are a noble man, Doctor McCoy, am I permitted to say that much?"

"What are your plans now?" McCoy changed the subject rather than be forced to reject unneeded praise, earned or not.

"If your Federation is safe, I will see that the children are well taken care of and then see if I can find a way to return to my own universe," Khan replied.

"They'll be taken care of, you have my word on that," McCoy said firmly. "It's Federation policy to care for any and all refugees that are able to make it to Federation controlled space or are found by Federation vessels." He didn't ask why the man wanted to go back to the Hell he'd sprung from, not with the certain knowledge that there were more children to save and men like his counterpart to kill. "What if you can't find a way to get back?"

"If I can't get back?" Khan rubbed his chin. "Perhaps I could find some way to make myself useful here? It might be nice to spend a few years without the constant threat of death hanging over my head."

The two men spent the next several hours talking, reliving past battles and old glories before the doctor's communicator beeped to summon him back to the _Enterprise_.

"I'll be back to check on my patients again tomorrow," McCoy promised.

"You are always welcome on any ship I command, Doctor McCoy," Khan replied.

IIIIIIIIII

Despite having consumed four mint juleps and being almost dead on his feet, McCoy was immediately hustled into another staff meeting the second he returned to his ship. Surprisingly, this time Kirk was not the first person to set on him with questions.

"How did she look on the inside?" Scotty asked, eager to learn more about a ship from another universe.

"Damn it, Scotty, I'm a doctor, not an engineer!" McCoy barked.

"Yeh musta noticed something?"

McCoy pursed his lips. "Worn. There isn't a Starfleet captain or engineer alive that would let their ship get in that state. It should have been overhauled – hell, shoulda been scrapped years ago."

"And?" Scotty persisted.

"The inside is similar to any other Miranda but it's … rougher. There weren't any luxuries built into the crew areas. It was obvious that the ones that were there had been added later. Captain's quarters looked like the inside of a bordello and there were signs that a lot of luxuries had been removed." He snorted. "Imagine it looked a lot like our counterpart's quarters did on the other _Enterprise_."

IIIIIIIIII

Kirk listened intently as his doctor gave the first part of his report on what he'd seen on the other ship. Based on what he'd heard and seen, the other ship appeared to be exactly what it said it was. A group of refugees and freedom fighters who'd been fortunate enough to be transported away from the cess pit they called a home.

"Have a seat, Bones," Kirk ordered. His old friend was dead on his feet. "Take ten hours of personal time after the meeting ends."

"Damn it, Jim, I have patients over there that need me."

"Is there anything your subordinates can't handle themselves?"

"No, but—"

"Ten in your quarters or twenty in the brig," Kirk interrupted, his voice as firm and unyielding as dura steel. "Your choice." Kirk smiled. "My word that we will wake you up and get you over there if you're needed for anything."

"Yes, sir."

"Scotty."

"Sir?"

"Care for a look inside the other ship yourself?"

"What did you have in mind, Jim?"

"I was thinking they could use a few engineers to help them repair enough damage to limp to a dry dock," Kirk stated, eager for any chance to collect more information on the analog of one of his greatest foes. "Assuming of course that we can spare the people."

"Aye, Captain, the whole department if need be." He patted the bulkhead. "Old girl may only need to run long enough to reach the breaking yard but her engines hum like she was just commissioned. Not much for us ta do in Engineering."

"Incoming transmission from the _Reliant_ ," Uhura reported suddenly. "Khan wants to speak with you, Captain."

"Transmit video and audio from my station only, I don't want him to know everyone else is listening in," Kirk ordered. "What can I do for you, Khan?" he asked after the man's perpetually smiling face appeared on the screen.

"Kirk, I was hoping you would be good enough to share a bit of your database to pass the time while we are idle. I am of course, willing to grant you the same access to my own."

"Technical manuals?" the Starfleet captain asked dryly, remembering his encounter with the man's native counterpart.

"Engineering texts might be nice at some future date, but our ships appear to be similar enough that they're not a priority at this time. No, I'm much more interested in studying your history and philosophy," the augment said eagerly. "A gallery of the most famous pieces of art produced since our timelines diverged would also be much appreciated. And also…" the man hesitated.

"Yes?" Kirk prompted.

"We are carrying a number of children and would be most grateful if you could send over a selection of toys for them." His own ship being unable to spare the resources needed to construct them.

"I'll have something put together for you," Kirk agreed. "Speaking of engineering?"

"Yes?"

"Mind if I send a couple of mine over? They're starting to get a bit bored over here."

"The more the merrier, Kirk," Khan agreed. "So long as they stay out of areas we tell them to stay out of."

"Agreed. Was that all you wanted to discuss?"

"It was."

"Kirk out."

"Khan out," he said, trying to mimic what appeared to be the local communications protocol.

The captain was in his quarters a few hours later when the duty officer piped through Khan's next communication. The augment was obviously displeased by something.

"Problem with the engineering crews?" Kirk guessed, thinking there'd either been a brawl or that someone had strayed where they shouldn't have.

"No, the crews are fine," Khan replied. "Lifesavers even. Your Chief Engineer found several things that could have led to the destruction of the ship if they had not been found in time."

"If it's not the engineers and I presume it's not the medical teams…" He trailed off and got a confirming shake of the head. "What is it?"

"Kirk, I know you to be a civilized man, so I ask, how can you bear to serve the Federation controlled by such moral cowards?" Khan demanded. "I am speaking of this monstrous thing your people call the Prime Directive," Khan said hotly. "How can the Federation expect its captains to stand by and watch as whole worlds are destroyed, to justify inaction because of a culture's level of development?"

"I agree with you," Kirk stated, derailing much of the man's anger. "I serve in Starfleet because I believe the Federation and Starfleet are potentially great forces for good in the universe. They aren't perfect, no organization is, but it is far easier to work from within to change them for the better."

"You yourself have violated it on multiple occasions," Khan argued. "How can you allow yourself to be associated with monsters who allow genocide by inaction?!"

"That proves my point that the Federation can be such a great force for good that it's better to work inside it than alone," Kirk said passionately. "The Prime Directive was put in with the noblest of intentions. The fact that it might be used as an excuse by petty bureaucrats in uniform to stand by and allow entire planets to die is disgusting. If I were to leave Starfleet, to abandon the Federation, how likely do you think it would be for me or any other officer that things the same way to get an opportunity to change it for the better?"

"I don't know how likely it is you can change it from within, I suppose it might be possible," Khan admitted. "You are but one voice but–"

"One joined to many thousands," Kirk countered. "Every one of us that gives up makes it a hundred times more difficult for those who stay behind."

The two men stared at each other for what felt like years. "Alright," Khan broke. "I shall try it your way, Kirk. I will work with your system for the short time I am here. But know this; should our stay be prolonged, I will not do it forever. No man has unlimited patience."

"That's all I ask," Kirk said, pleased by the way things had gone. "Every man who joins me on the inside makes it easier to change things."

"We shall see, Kirk," Khan replied. "Perhaps…perhaps I have become so corrupted by my interaction with the Terran Empire that the thought of something so massive as the Federation being changed from within is simply too difficult to comprehend at this time. I hope you are correct, Kirk, more than anything I hope that you are correct." The freedom fighter cut the connection and went back to the files he'd been given, the seed of an idea forming deep within his subconscious.

Three hours later, that seed had bloomed and he called a meeting with all of his able-bodied officers, trusting the ship's communications systems to carry it to the rest of the crew.

Everyone stood when he entered the room and, with a smile, he motioned for them to take their seats. "Do our sensor readings give us enough information to travel between this universe and our own?"

"They do not, Great Khan," his second in command, a young woman with obvious Vulcan heritage replied. "I shall contact the _Enterprise_ myself after this meeting to get a copy of theirs."

"Thank you, T'Pera." He allowed his gaze to sweep over the room. "It appears that we will be here for a while. I have spoken to Kirk and he has convinced me to try to work within their Federation to change it for the better. I propose that we build an organization dedicated to bringing relief to planets hit by natural disaster, war, plague, or anything else that would imperil large numbers of innocents. Thoughts?"

The officers exchanged glances, finally, his medical officer, a young Romulan male he'd picked off a wrecked freighter five years before spoke up. "I think it might be nice to have a bit of peace in our lives for a few years. I don't think any of the crew's had more than a week's rest since I've been on the ship."

"What are your other reasons?" his tactical officer, a one-eyed augmented woman, the granddaughter of one of his original men, asked with a grin. "You never have just one."

"If we are able to find a way to return to our own universe and our fight against the Empire, building a support structure here will dramatically increase our chances of success." Khan paused. "Let me rephrase that; it will make it easier for me and anyone who should wish to volunteer to return. My friends, what you have already achieved earns you a place on the throne of heroes a thousand times. There is no one in this universe or the other that has any right to ask you to do more."

"You do not need to ask, Lord," Doran spoke. No one having the heart or the courage to suggest excluding the injured girl from the meeting.

"Where you go, we follow, Great Khan," T'Pera spoke for them all. "As it has been, so shall it always be."

"I see." It took a moment to master his emotions. "Some will remain here in any case. The most successful guerrilla movements in history have always had a safe haven to fall back on. If all goes well, the Federation will be ours." Again he thanked whatever gods that might exist for being blessed with such friends. Surely no man had ever been half as fortunate as himself.

IIIIIIIIII

Spock had just finished his evening meal when the communicator chimed, indicating that he had an incoming message. The man answered it and an unfamiliar Vulcan female appeared on the screen. The woman was young, almost certainly not more than twenty, her black hair cut in a standard Vulcan pageboy, her fine features dramatically marred by a burn scar that took up much of the left side of her face.

"Am I addressing the science officer?" the woman on the screen asked.

"You are," Spock agreed.

"I am T'Pera, First Officer of the _Reliant_ , I formally request copies of any sensor reading you might have of our ship's entrance to your universe."

"It may take some time to compile them," Spock cautioned, shading the truth a bit. Like his captain, he was becoming more and more certain that the crew of the _Reliant_ were as good as that of their universe's _Enterprise_ were bad. And, like his captain, he was unwilling to give them anything that could later be used to harm the Federation until they were one hundred percent certain. The potential price was too high for them to risk being wrong.

"We shall be here a while to rest and refit in any case," she said calmly. "I am willing to wait until your ship has assured itself that our intentions are good. To that end, my captain has directed me to answer any questions you might have regarding us."

"Thank you." Spock paused to consider what to ask. "May I ask how someone of your apparent youth has gained such a high station?"

"My captain has a habit of giving captured ships to his officers," the woman replied. "In the two decades I have served under the Great Khan, he has lost five first officers to promotion and four to death. I have refused promotion twenty-seven times to remain at his side."

"I see."

"The price the Empire has offered for my head is nearly one one–twentieth of that offered for my captain," she added with no small amount of pride.

"A notable achievement," Spock complimented her. "What is the status of Vulcan in your universe?"

"The planet is an Empire satrap, but a large number of its people managed to escape, as did a portion of its fleet. They are a valued ally in the fight against the tyranny of the Imperial Fleet. Might I ask how it fares here?"

"Free and a founding member of the Federation."

IIIIIIIIII

Kirk called another staff meeting the next morning, taking advantage of the fact that he'd be able to get a report from his Chief Engineer coming back to the ship and give instructions to his doctor before he left.

"If I wanted to do nothing but sit in meetings all day, I'd have stayed an Admiral," Kirk joked. "Let's try to keep this brief. Scotty, what are your thoughts now that you've had a chance to look at their ship?"

"Their Chief Engineer's a bloody miracle worker," the man reported, pleased to have met someone capable of thinking at the same level he did. "It was a pleasure to get a look at some of the repairs they had to do over there. Still, Leonard's right, they need a new ship. That one over yonder's held together with chewing gum and prayers. Poor thing should ha' been scrapped years ago."

"I had an opportunity to speak with their first officer last night," Spock spoke up. "A fascinating young woman who requested copies of our sensor readings for their emergence."

"Recommendations?"

"I'd like more time to examine them myself before a decision is made either way," Spock replied.

"Done," Kirk agreed. "Bones, how are our medical supplies? Do we need to call in another ship?"

"Not unless something else happens, Jim," the doctor replied. "We can deal with three more emergencies like the one over there before we reach the level I'll start getting worried we don't have enough."

"Good. Anyone have anything else?" The captain glanced around. "Meeting adjourned."

IIIIIIIIII

It took McCoy and his staff a bit more than three hours to go through the patients on the refugee ship. Most of them were doing better thanks in no small part to the fact that his people were the best in the Federation at what they did.

The doctor frowned in annoyance when he examined what he believed to be his last patient of the day, the young Klingon woman with plasma burns serious enough that she shouldn't have been conscious, let alone moving around. She was also one of the crew that had threatened him with death the day before. "You've stretched your skin plasts," he accused, finally placing his finger on what was bothering him about her. "I thought I told you to take it easy."

"You can't expect me to–" the young Klingon began to work herself into a fury, trusting that the human in front of her would be intimidated into giving up the idea of trying to convince her to shirk her duties to her Lord.

"I can and will!" McCoy barked. "Young lady, I think the two of us misunderstand each other. You seem to think my orders are suggestions. I know that if I catch you out of bed one more time before I've cleared you that I'll damn well fill you so full of sedatives that you'll think you can fly through space without a ship and I'll keep doing it until you're back to one hundred percent. Understood?!"

"Understood, Doctor," the teenager growled back, privately impressed.

"Good!" McCoy packed up his bag, turning his glare onto his escort. "Was that the last one or has one of you hurt yourself since I was last here?"

"That's the last of them, Doctor," his escort, a heavily scarred Andorian male replied.

"Take me to Khan's quarters and tell him I expect the bourbon, sugar, ice, and the mint to be out when I get there," McCoy ordered. "I damn well need another drink after dealing with stubborn idiots like her." A hand waved to indicate the now grinning Klingon, the girl having taken the doctor's epithet as a compliment.

The doctor stormed out of the room, only slowing when he was within sight of the Captain's door. "What was her name?"

"Doran, Doctor," the Andorian replied.

"Make sure she doesn't get it into her fool head to go back to work. I wasn't kidding when I said she needs rest. Any more aggravation to her injuries could see her recovery time doubled."

"I'll see to it, Doctor," the Andorian agreed.

"You damn well better!" McCoy barked. The man raised his hand and pounded on the door.

IIIIIIIIII

Khan was at his desk when his sensors indicated that his visitor had arrived. The man started pounding on his door a few seconds later.

"Come in, Doctor McCoy," Khan's voice called out, disengaging the lock on his door with a verbal command.

McCoy stepped into the room and immediately went through the steps to make himself a mint julep.

"I'd have done that for you but I doubt you'd have approved of my result," Khan stated. "What has happened to put you in such a state?"

"The young Klingon girl, Doran. I don't believe I've ever seen anyone stay conscious with plasma burns so severe...What in God's name happened to her?!"

"During our escape two days ago we suffered a fire in our reactor room due to a ruptured plasma conduit. The automatic fire suppression systems failed to activate... She ran into the blaze, cut the leaking conduit off from the reactor, and manually activated the fire suppression, saving the ship and everyone aboard in the process."

"She can't be more than sixteen," the doctor said in shocked wonder.

"About that," Khan agreed. "We estimated that she was ten when I plucked her out of your counterpart's camp six years ago."

IIIIIIIIII

It was another two weeks before Doctor McCoy was satisfied that his patients could do without him and two more before Scotty's engineers were willing to certify the ship safe enough to limp back to Earth with the _Enterprise_. Khan was waiting in the transporter bay to see the last crew off personally.

"Mr. Scott, you and your men have done wonders for her," Khan stated.

"I wouldna say that. If I had any choice, I'd never let my worst enemy fly her in the shape she's in," the engineer stated. "Beauty of a ship taken care of by a hell of an engineer, but beaten to pieces too many times."

Khan nodded to a crewman who handed Scotty a wooden crate. "I'm afraid I have one last favor to ask of you. I was hoping you could dispose of this case of empty bottles for me."

"They donna feel empty to me," Scotty said with a grin.

"Ah, in that case, I'm going to have to ask you to empty them for me, too. I'd do it myself, but I'm not sure I could still drink a case of twenty-year-old scotch in one sitting," Khan said regretfully. "I can only hope that you and your men do not suffer a similar failing."

"I think me and the lads can help yeh with that," Scotty assured the man.

AN: Not sure if this is the first fic posted of 2016 or the last of 2015, should be fairly close either way. I based the camps on real life examples. Wish I didn't have them available to use as models.

Omake for Chapter 01: Mirror Borg by Veive

Reading this dredged up a couple of stray thoughts about the Borg- namely that for machines bent on efficiency with the ability to tap into billions (trillions?) of minds at a time they seem to go about things in the absolute worst way possible.

Begin Omake:

Khan was desperate.

He had been on the run from the Terran republic for nearly ten weeks in a badly damaged ship full of refugees. His ship dropped out of warp near an uncharted nebula and limped towards it while the few able bodied crew he had left scrambled to make repairs.

Hopefully this latest maneuver would buy them a few much needed hours to repair and hopefully rest Khan mused to himself.

Just then his sensor officer chimed up and dashed his hopes.

"Contact, captain!" She said tersely. "long range sensors, looks like they will be coming out of warp any moment now, sorry I can't tell you more."

"Understood." Khan acknowledged. "Battle stations, get the shields and weapons online!" He turned back to the sensor officer. "Thanks for the warning, it may just save our lives."

"A pleasure sir." She said with a nervous smile. "Contact dropping out of warp- unknown class- it doesn't look like a Terran ship sir."

Khan frowned. "What kind of ship is it?" He asked.

"I don't know sir, it doesn't match any of the race profiles I've seen."

"Put it onscreen." Khan ordered.

The ship that Khan saw was indeed unlike anything that he had ever seen.

It was a smooth ellipse of grey, green and white metal without any visible  
protrusions of any kind.

"Captain we're being hailed." The comm officer advised.

"Onscreen." Khan ordered, before his jaw dropped in shock.

There sitting before him was was quite obviously the bridge of a pleasure ship.

The crew of which seemed quite content to lounge in their quite comfortable looking chairs in nothing but their cybernetic implants, skin and the occasional bit of clothing.

"Hello there." A curvaceous betazoid purred as she flowed gracefully out of the captain's chair. "I'm captain Jenine of the borg recreational vessel Oblivion. It looks like you're in a bit of trouble, do you require assistance of any kind?"

"What would the cost of such aid be?" Khan asked warily.

"Access to your technical and medical databases." Captain Jenine said with apparent disinterest.

"I think I can agree to that, but I have to wonder why?" Khan asked warily.

"For a few reasons." Jenine answered with a shrug that did absolutely -delightful- things for her. "First it allows us to ensure that the aid we are rendering will not be harmful, it also potentially allows us the ability to enhance our own technologies or to develop new ones later."

Khan smiled, and failed once again to command his eyes to tell him what color her hair or eyes were. "A beneficial trade for both parties then."

"Indeed." Jenine agreed with a laugh. "I presume that you require an engineering team and a medical team, do you require rations?"

Khan nodded. "We're a bit short on food at the moment and materials for the repairs as well."

"Very well captain, we will accompany you into the nebula and have the first aid shipment delivered within the hour." Jenine said airily.

End omake.

General idea is that the borg in the mirror universe aren't so much into violent assimilation as marketing- so they have nanites that can really do everything modern day spammers say they can do, and they will do so for a small fee and an injection of nanites.

From there it becomes a mind share where you get to retain (most) of your free will and work on what you like.

In return any idle brain power from when you are sleeping and a significant portion of those idle thoughts that pop into your head are taken over by the collective for use as extra processing power to help others.

In return you get to tap into the collective for solving your own problems, and everyone wins.

Anyone who is assimilated who can't exist peacefully in a society like that is  
sent into the military. Any world who isn't willing to be assimilated through peaceful trade gets forcefully assimilated.

These borg don't do things like insert implants without anesthetic since that increases the chance of mental or physical complications and thus is inefficient, but they are still very much bent on galactic domination.

They are just open to things like developing new tech on their own and reproduction among assimilated individuals, which if you think about it could arguably make them even worse than canon borg.


	2. The Path of Kirk

Disclaimer: Espresso and Brandy – Is there a finer way to end the day?

The Path of Kirk

Earth: 2293

The arrival of Khan's ship produced a media feeding frenzy the likes of which the Federation had rarely seen. Each reporter was intent on supplying a public eager for information on the analog of one of history's greatest villains. It was a situation unlike any Khan or his crew had ever experienced, a truly free press being completely outside their frame of reference. Still, they wasted no time in turning it to their advantage. Oddly enough, it was their experience dealing with the Empire and its various propaganda organs that helped them the most in this area. It took an extremely flexible mind to survive in such an environment, something Khan and his crew had managed to do for decades.

The high amount of public interest did two things. The first was, it gave Khan and his people much-needed time to plan. The second was that it gave them an unusual opportunity to raise some quick funds. Reporters, they'd discovered, were like spies, differing only in who benefited from their information. Another similarity was the tremendous amount of money they were willing to part with in exchange for better access to information. Granted most of it was laundered into respectability by the use of such terms as 'advances on book deals,' 'movie rights,' and 'speaking engagements' but the true nature of things was obvious to any who did more than scratch the surface. Which was what led to Khan's first press conference.

"Ms. Kira Nightly of the Federation News Service," Khan selected his first reporter, having memorized the faces and affiliations of every participant the night before and had, along with his crew, been very careful to select the exact order in which to call them.

"Sir, have you had a chance to read up on your analog in this dimension and if so, what are your thoughts on him?"

"I have and I find him to be a tragic figure," Khan replied. "In most cases, the only similarities between those from here and those from my home universe are cosmetic. Take Doctor McCoy, here he is a courageous man who has dedicated his life to healing others. The Butcher, as his counterpart was known, was a monster wearing a human mask, a craven coward who begged for mercy after having given none to his victims. Your Khan sought peace through order, order through terror and the subjugation of others."

He shook his head sadly. "It terrifies me to think that I might have made a similar mistake when I was young if I did not have the Empire as an example of how flawed that thinking is. Your Khan only truly became a monster after the death of his wife sent him into madness. I…"

The man paused. "I have often found myself tempted to give Imperial Camp guards even a small taste of the treatment they gave out to others. I have often heard a little voice in the back of my head telling me that death is too kind, that they deserve more for what they have done to the innocent. I can-not describe how seductive the thought is, how difficult it is to refuse it after finding a list of names and realizing that each one represents a murdered child. One must realize that to give in to the voice is to give up a piece of oneself. I fight monsters, Ms. Nightly, I refuse to become one myself. To do so would be a betrayal of everything I stand for and everyone I've ever saved. I hope that answers your question, Nightly?"

"It does, thank you," she agreed, sitting down.

"Mr. Tom Taliaferro of the Interstellar News Network," Khan called on the next reporter.

"What are your intentions? Do you plan to go back to your universe or stay here?"

"Several scientists are examining the sensor readings our ship took during its trip through the rift into your universe and the _Enterprise's_ readings from our emergence, in an attempt to find a way back," Khan began. "They tell me that they do not believe they can send us back at this time."

"Follow-up question," Tom stated. "Since you're trapped in our universe, what are your plans?"

"Our plans are to create a humanitarian organization dedicated to providing aid to all peoples regardless of their species, religion, or political affiliation." He laughed. "That organization is the reason we were forced to charge such obscene amounts of money for places in this press conference. It is my sincere belief that my actions must have a great amount of transparency for them to be trusted and the thought of charging you people for it is … distasteful. However, I am also pragmatic enough to admit that I need operating funds and this is currently the easiest way for me to get them." 

"Thank you, Mr. Singh," Tom stated, taking his seat.

"Ms. Watts, Earth Action Network."

"What prompted you to set up your organization?" she asked. "Is there some way you can convince the public that it isn't part of some elaborate trick?"

"In my entire existence, my one desire has been to help people. Jumping from my nightmarish home universe to this one has done nothing to change that desire." His ever-present grin widened. "As for your second question: words are meaningless. I invite the public to witness my actions and judge for themselves." He picked out his next reporter. "Ms. T'Pel of the Vulcan Information Service."

"What provisions have been made for the refugees who accompanied you to this dimension?" the Vulcan asked calmly.

"Captain James T. Kirk has taken personal charge of the task of finding homes for all of the children my crew rescued from Imperial Camp 14. They couldn't be in better hands."

"You aren't going to take care of them yourself?"

"I am afraid that I do not have the resources or contacts here to get them the treatment they need," Khan admitted. "Kirk does. It is not important who helps them, so long as they are helped."

The question and answer session went on for another three hours before he finally called an end to it.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of meetings, each one designed to help bring his proposed organization a step closer to reality, or to provide leverage to use on the Federation government, or both. This was one of the reasons he ignored the majority of requests to meet that originated from either Starfleet or the political entity that controlled it. One of his more important meetings was with the newly appointed Klingon Ambassador.

Doran was at his side as he walked down the broad avenue to the newly expanding Klingon Embassy to the Federation. The successful signing of the Khitomer Accords had lead to a much closer relationship between the two star empires.

"You seem to have something on your mind," Khan stated as the compound's front gate came into sight.

"I have been reading about...well, I suppose I should call them my people; the Klingon Empire," the young Klingon admitted.

"Indeed? What do you think?"

"Their words make a great deal of sense, but what if they are just words? Words are so often empty."

"No people are universally good or bad; bear in mind that I was born on Terra and reflect on how different I am from the empire it spawned. In even the best of nations, you will find people who subvert all of the good deeds and noble ideals of their kind; yet at the same time you will also find people who exemplify those ideals."

"I understand that families are very important to the Klingon people," Doran said, and Khan smiled as they arrived at the heart of the matter, "They –we, I guess– will introduce themselves by the name of who, they are the child of – but I never knew my father's name and I...I cannot remember my mother's name."

"Doran," and Khan was gently chiding, "you know full well that I see you as a daughter." Seeing a true smile appear for a moment on the face of the stoic and undemonstrative (even by Klingon standards) girl was all the reward he'd ever need.

"You tell them the truth, that you are Doran, daughter of Khan, House of Singh," he said.

"Y-yes, Lord," she agreed, and the slight hitch in her voice marked roiling emotions that would probably have made many people weep tears of joy.

Not Doran; never Doran. She was too tough for her own good sometimes.

She followed as he walked through the open gate and was ushered into the Embassy by a pair of large Klingon warriors who led them deeper and deeper into the complex until they reached the door to the Ambassador's office. The guard on the left balled his fist and struck the door three times. It opened to reveal a Klingon dressed in armor that, based on its quality and fit, must have been custom made.

"I am Fnord, son of Knurd, House of Dis, Ambassador to the Federation," the Klingon announced.

"Khan Noonien Singh," Khan replied. "Here to meet about getting my ship registered in the Klingon Empire."

"Leave the young female here, my guards will look after her while we discuss things," the Ambassador stated. The Klingon turned and stepped back into his office.

"Wait here," Khan ordered.

"Yes, Lord," his companion agreed.

The guards closed the door after Khan entered and noted with no small amount of amusement that the little female took a position to block the door. Their amusement would not last long.

IIIIIIIIII

The Ambassador yanked the cork out of a bottle and poured two goblets, thrusting one into his guest's hands.

"Your ship shows the scars of a hundred battles," the Klingon stated.

"A thousand," Khan replied, his smile widening. "Maybe more."

"Hah! You must tell me of them after you tell me why you want to register your ship in the Klingon Empire!"

"Several reasons. The main one is that, unlike the Federation, you will not demand that we fly unarmed," Khan replied calmly.

"Quite the contrary," the Klingon laughed. "The law states that all ships must be capable of defending themselves. The Federation's main failing is their strange idea that rendering oneself helpless assures the universe of their good intentions. We in the Klingon Empire know the truth: weakness provokes attack."

IIIIIIIIII

Knurd walked towards his father's office, eager to get a glimpse of the strange human warrior the guards had been speaking about. As he approached the door, he saw a tiny, unfamiliar female standing between the two warriors that normally guarded the door.

"I am Knurd, son of Fnord," the boy said loudly. "Step aside."

The little female glared at him. "I am Doran, daughter of Khan," she announced proudly. "None shall pass!"

He took what he believed to be a menacing step forward. "If you do not move then I shall—"

The strange female moved like lightening, the phaser he'd sworn had not been in her hand an instant before fired, and the left guard went down. The right grabbed her wrist and suffered a punch to the throat, followed by a brutal pistol whip. "None shall pass," the female repeated. She no longer appeared to be quite so small as she had a few seconds earlier.

IIIIIIIIII

Khan put down his drink when he heard a commotion outside the door and readied himself to strike.

"Shall we go see what it is before we miss the fun?" the Ambassador asked, sounding greatly amused. The Klingon was out of his chair and standing in the now open door in moments. He made a choking sound which soon turned into a deep, belly shaking laugh.

IIIIIIIIII

Doran's blood sang as she felt the boy's elbow shatter and reached for the other arm. The young warrior had been surprisingly tough, but it was clear he'd never had to fight for his life. She twisted his wrist till she began to feel the bones separate, increasing the pressure until his shoulder popped out of joint. Her left hand went down slowly, seeking out his throat when strong hands grabbed her by either arm and dragged her off her prey. In the struggle that followed, she felt a brief moment of satisfaction when she felt a rib break under her toe and another when her mouth filled with someone else's blood. Suddenly, it was all over and she found herself standing in front of her Lord and the Ambassador they'd come to meet.

"What is your name, little one?" the Ambassador asked.

"I am Doran, daughter of Khan, House of Singh!" she growled, her eyes daring him to make light of it and promising death should he prove to be so foolish.

"You do your father proud, Doran, Daughter of Khan," the Ambassador stated with a wide grin. "Come!" He turned to reenter his office. "We must celebrate your victory!"

A case of bloodwine and twenty-four hours later, they left the embassy with an agreement with the empire and two severe hangovers.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Khan asked. The girl hadn't had many opportunities to be around her people.

"They stopped me before I could break his other arm, Lord," she replied, obviously displeased by that little fact.

"You had him at your mercy, both of you know that. It was only through the intervention of others—" He smirked. "—several others, that he fared so well."

"I understand, Lord."

IIIIIIIIII

Knurd perked up when his father entered the clinic, hoping the man could give him information on the girl who had so effortlessly defeated him.

"The doctor tells me that it will take at least a week to fix your elbow," his father growled. "Perhaps I should not have allowed the guards to pull her off of you. A week seems like a light punishment for disturbing me while I was conducting matters of state."

"Is she coming back?" Knurd asked hopefully. "I've never heard of her house, Singh. Is it from one of the colonies?"

Fnord's booming laugh echoed through the room. It seemed his son had finally reached that age.

Then, sobering, he began to tell the boy a tale he had recently learned – the tale of a Klingon warrior born and bred, forged in a place so terrible most would not even see its like in their nightmares, and tempered by the guidance of a human with the courage to go to war against an entire galaxy, the honor to do so for the finest of reasons – and the strength, skill at arms and downright cussed luck to survive so doing.

It evidently surprised his son just as much as it had surprised him when he learned that through the vagaries of fate they were the first fellow Klingons with whom Doran, daughter of Khan, had ever spoken. Both of them, father and son, found themselves hoping that they had left a good impression. 

IIIIIIIIII

Khan and Doran nearly ran into Scotty when they arrived at the building containing the public transporter pad that they'd intended to use to return to the ship.

"Scotty, a pleasure to see you again," Khan said. "What a coincidence to run into you here."

"Coincidence?" the engineer laughed. "I've got spies telling me your every move. They rousted me out of bed the moment you left the Embassy and got me here."

"Oh?"

"Aye, Technical Intelligence is gettin' a mite anxious to get a better look at your ship than they can get from the report I wrote." Scotty laughed. "I got orders three days ago to ask you to sit down with them and I've been on call ever since. Do yeh figure you have enough time to get leverage, or do you want me to pretend I never saw yeh?"

"Tell them you had to come back to the ship with me to convince me over breakfast," Khan advised. "The officers' mess at Camp 14 had been restocked three days before we took it. The men who served the Empire may have been irredeemably evil, but they also knew how to set a good table."

"I'll do just that," Scotty agreed.

"Tell them also that I will need to arrange a meeting with someone in Starfleet Medical before I even consider speaking about my ship," Khan stated. "I have a rather large file I would like to hand over."

"Sure, but why not just ask Leonard?"

"The file contains the life's work of his counterpart." Khan frowned. "The life's work of an evil man with an inexhaustible supply of victims. The information contained could hold the key to any number of medical cures. The way it was gathered gives me nightmares six years after I killed the man who collected it. Making him look at the work of his analog would give him nightmares even worse than my own." 

"I canna dispute that argument," Scotty stated.

The meal was followed by a detailed discussion with the engineering staff, another meal, a quick perusal of the tech manuals, a third meal, another conversation, and a night in one of the guest rooms before Scotty decided that he'd best be getting back to tell them the good news. Well, after breakfast, Khan hadn't been kidding about the quality of his mess.

"I'll tell 'em I had ta twist yer arm to fit yeh in so early," Scotty promised as he stepped onto the transporter pad. "Diplomatic corps is involved and it's best those risk averse idiots don't get anything too easy."

"They say that struggling is good for the soul," Khan pointed out.

"I think the likes of us have had all the good we can take," Scotty replied. "Best we let the chair-bound idiots have a taste fer once. Energize."

The sound of the transporter was accompanied by the sound of Khan's laughter as Scotty beamed back to the surface.

Khan got back to his quarters and managed to get halfway through the published version of the _Enterprise's_ logs from Kirk's five-year mission of exploration when his Second arrived.

"Diplomat on the comm for you, Great Khan," she reported.

"Thank you, T'Pera, was he polite?"

"He was not, Great Khan."

"Tell him that I am far too busy to talk to him myself," Khan said. "Be sure to stress that I will only meet with him after I have met with Medical."

"Yes, Great Khan. Should I also be sure that he understands the topic of the meeting will be confined to technical data?"

"Yes, if they want to meet about other things, they will have to book another meeting."

"Alright," she agreed. "He offered me a bribe if I was willing to get him a meeting before the day ends. Should I accept it?"

"I suspect they'll try to use it against us if you do." Khan rubbed his chin. "You can mention the earliest I'm able to meet with him is one week from now. If he presses, tell him that all earlier blocks of time are reserved for the purposes of thanking people who have made large donations to our proposed humanitarian organization."

"Yes, Great Khan," she agreed. "I shall have comms mirror our negotiation on your screen so you may watch in real time if you so desire."

"Thank you, T'pera, I'm tempted to take you up on it, if for no other reason than to see how poorly he does against you, but I'm afraid I have quite a lot of material to get through first."

The part-Vulcan returned to the bridge and nodded for the communications officer to take the bureaucrat off hold.

"Where's Khan?" the man demanded, knowing that the first thing you did when dealing with neo-barbs was establish your importance. To that end, it was usually best to refuse to deal with anyone but the local headman.

"Great Khan is in the middle of something and can not be disturbed at this time," T'Pera said calmly. "I have been empowered to speak with you."

"When can I call and speak with him?" he said briskly, not wanting politeness to be mistaken for weakness.

"Perhaps next week," T'Pera replied. "Should I see if I can find time in his schedule?"

The man's teeth ground together. This was why he'd left the field the second he gained enough seniority, this was why he tried to deal only with fully developed races. "What will it take to get a face to face meeting with him today?" He cursed the fact that he was the only one available with both the experience and the seniority to deal with these neo-barbarians.

"I'm afraid all of his time for the next week that has not been assigned to some other task is reserved to meet with people who have made large donations towards the creation of our humanitarian organization," T'Pera stated.

"I'll give you five thousand Federation Credits if you can get me a place today," the bureaucrat stated, knowing a solicitation for a bribe when he saw it. An idle part of his mind wondered how much, if any, of it would actually go to fund their organization. He snorted, as if anyone in the know thought it was more than just a clever way for their chieftain to add to his bank balance at the expense of the average, unthinking citizen.

"The minimum is twenty, the minimum to be sure you are not bumped for a larger donor is thirty-five," she replied. "If that is not to your liking, I believe that I can find a space for you next week."

"Fine." He made and held eye contact. "Thirty-five and Khan meets with—" He paused. No way in hell was he willing to be in the same room as one of history's greatest butchers. "A representative empowered to speak on my behalf." 

"It is acceptable for you to use a proxy. In return for this concession, the Great Khan demands a meeting with a senior representative from Starfleet Medical before he is willing to entertain speaking on another subject."

"Fine, but in exchange I want the price of the meeting lowered to fifteen thousand credits," the man stated.

"No. The conditions have been set. The current agreement is that you will make a voluntary donation of thirty five thousand Federation Credits in exchange for a meeting with the Great Khan. The subject of this meting is yours to decide, but the Great Khan demands a meeting with a senior representative from Starfleet Medical before he is willing to entertain speaking on another subject," she repeated for emphasis.

"How long will this meeting take?" he asked sourly, deciding that the fight wasn't worth prolonging the call.

"The length of the meeting will depend on your Starfleet Medical. The Great Khan should be finished with his part in minutes."

"With the understanding that that meeting will not count against our time for the other meeting."

"That is acceptable," she agreed.

"The money should be in your account," he stated after fiddling with his datapad for a couple minutes. "When can my man meet with Khan?"

"I have time slots beginning fifteen minutes from now and ending at twenty one hundred, ship time."

"Two hours from now. I'm transmitting transporter coordinates now." The man cut the signal.

She used the intercom to connect to the Captain's quarters. "Two hours, Great Khan."

"Thank you, T'Pera," his voice crackled, yet indicating another thing that needed to be fixed.

Khan permitted himself another hour of reading before setting down his PADD to get ready. A shower, a meal, a set of clean clothing, and he was on the transporter pad ready to beam down.

The walls at his arrival point were all sterile Federation grey, making it impossible at first glance to determine one's location as it was virtually identical to every other Federation facility scattered around the quadrant. As he stepped off the transporter pad, a part of his mind noted two red-uniformed figures standing to one side, a human male and a Vulcan female, both holding medical tricorders.

The human took the lead when he approached, offering his hand and a good approximation of a welcoming smile.

"Mr. Khan, my name is Doctor Gibson, and this is my associate Doctor T'Rul. We were told you had some data for us?"

"Doctor McCoy's alternate was the Camp Doctor for a place called Camp 25. It was one of the smallest prison camps I've liberated, around three thousand people. It was also one of the worst." Khan took a breath and let it out slowly. "Most camps are designed kill slowly while still getting a bit of labor out of their victims. Camp 25 was a research camp." Kahn took several shallow breaths as he fought to calm his heartbeat as another part of his mind noted the dawning look of horror on the human's face and a slight tightening of the vulcan's jaw. "One of the Butcher's pet projects was a twin study. He and his—" Kahn refused to use the term 'doctor 'for the animals he was talking about."—researchers would test different methods of torture on each one to determine exactly how much a body could take before it failed and how much torment a mind could take before it shattered. Upon death they would revive and repair their victims for reuse. He thought it was all great fun, a wonderful way to pass the time when he didn't have something better to do, even going so far as to award prizes for the teams that could get the most 'use' out of their subjects before they were forced to dispose of them for another pair."

"In God's name, why would we want this?!" Doctor Gibson was horrified. "You can't possibly think we'd want this!"

"Information is neither good nor evil," Khan stated firmly. "The man who collected this was a monster, his methods horrific, the file I gave you is the stuff of nightmares."

"Then—"

"But," his voice was like iron. "if it can be used for good, if it can be used to save lives." Khan's eyes flashed. "Can you think of a better way of spitting on the Butcher's grave? To use the products of his evil to do good? The information is there. Though I would give my life to have prevented its existence, I stand here, begging you to not allow it to sit unused. Do not let their deaths be in vain!"

"It would not be logical to ignore potentially useful data because of its distasteful origin," Doctor T'rul stated, speaking her first words of the conversation. "I shall personally see that it is categorized and added to the database."

"Be warned, what I have given you is evidence of one of the worst atrocities that I have ever had the misfortune to come across," Khan stated.

"I shall be careful," Doctor T'Rul promised. "Do you mind if I transmit a copy of this to the Vulcan Science Academy? I believe that there is a better chance that this knowledge would be put to productive use if it were examined by a group of individuals that were better able to take a dispassionate view of what they were looking at."

"So long as you promise to send my warning with it," Khan agreed. "There are things in there that could shake even the most logical Vulcan."

"If that is your condition, I agree," T'Rul said. "Was that all or did you have additional things that you wished to share?"

"Doctor McCoy has a copy of the ship's medical database. Let me know if you want one for yourself or a third party and I will be happy to provide it."

"I will contact your ship. I have no doubt that Doctor McCoy will submit it to Starfleet Medical for inclusion to the database, but—" She glanced at her human companion.

"They sometimes like to drag their feet when information comes from a non-Federation source," Doctor Gibson supplied. "I don't know if it's because it doesn't come in the standardized format or because of institutional bias on the part of the administrators."

"Thank you," Khan said, and the sincerity in his tone was almost overwhelming.

"Do you know where your next meeting is?" Doctor Gibson asked, hoping to get away from the Augment who was far more human than he expected him to be.

"Room two five two six nine," Khan agreed.

"It's right down the hall and then you take the first left," Gibson supplied.

Khan bade the two farewell and, following the doctor's directions, had no trouble finding the site of his next meeting. The conference room was as institutionally bland as the transporter room had been; the only things that made it different from any other were the two men seated side by side on one side of the table. The man on the left had the look of a weaselly mid-level bureaucrat. The one on the right wore his suit like a uniform and had a head completely bereft of hair and a face that was an ugly mass of wrinkles and scars.

"So good of you to finally make time to fit us into your busy schedule, Mr. Singh," the bureaucrat on the left, evidently the man in charge, said sourly. He'd received a thorough set of instructions from his superior on how to act towards the bandit chieftain so as to maintain the dignity of the Federation and to increase his chances of success. The first instruction was to begin the meeting by subtly letting them know that you, not they, were in charge.

"I can reschedule if you like," Khan said calmly. "I believe the next opening in my schedule is two weeks from today." He rose to his feet. "I shall have my First Officer confirm the details with you."

"Now is fine," the man on the right spoke up. "We appreciate how busy you are and how fortunate we are to get this time with you."

"Of course," Khan said, retaking his seat and reevaluating the man on the right's seniority. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you want."

"Access to your ship to do a thorough survey of technology on your ship in hopes of getting an idea on how it differs from our own, to start with," the man on the right said calmly.

"In exchange, I suppose we could go as high as two million credits," the bureaucrat on the left offered. Instruction number two had been to be mindful of expenses and to remember that it was likely that the barbarian's idea of decadent luxury was his twice yearly shower. Giving him too much would only encourage him to bad behavior.

"No," Khan said calmly.

"Fine, but no higher than four million," the bureaucrat stated dismissively. "In exchange for the extra, we expect access to your technical manuals and engineering staff." Always be sure to force them to make extra concessions, it was a way to show that you had power and were not someone to take lightly.

"No," Khan yawned.

"What would you like?" the man on the right asked.

"I am willing to permit you a very close look at my ship and her systems. In return I would like space in one of your drydocks and a supply of spare parts so my crew can conduct an extensive refit."

"Out of the question," the left bureaucrat laughed. "Dock space is for Starfleet ships only. The only reason we would even consider putting your ship in a fleet facility would be to disarm it." He planned that to be the subject to address after they'd taken possession of the Augment's ship. It wasn't like he'd be in any position to say no at that point.

"In that case, a ship for a ship," Khan said, resolute. "Much of our technology is nearly identical, our weapons systems are not. On paper, your phasers are nearly twenty percent less efficient than my own and your photon torpedoes are nearly fifty percent less efficient. That leaves aside the detailed technical manuals I possess for any number of Empire and non-Empire systems, which I am willing to trade for a good supply of spare parts and technical assistance." 

"Still, you can't expect—" The savage couldn't really expect them to give in to his demands, could he?

"I have given you my terms, gentlemen, dock space and parts or a new ship," Khan interrupted. "It will not hurt my feelings if you say no. The Klingons have already extended a most generous offer. The only reason I am still speaking with you is that your technology is more familiar to my people."

"Perhaps a small freig—" the man on the left tried to regain control of the situation.

"The very least I will accept is another Miranda, either modified to my specifications or with the dock space and resources for my crew to do the work. Again, it won't bother me if you say no. I hear the Klingons have a lovely new cloak that you can fire torpedoes through." He tilted his head. "Also acceptable would be the _Enterprise_ , you are set to decommission her anyway." He wondered how many of the crew he could convince to stay with the ship if they were foolish enough to agree to that. Most of her engineers for sure, perhaps even the captain.

"We'll need to confer with our superiors," the man on the left said sullenly. If all else fails, stall for time, make them wait for you. Important men did not wait; rubbing his nose in the fact that he was not important could only yield positive results.

"Tell them the price goes up dramatically every time you do and every day they wait," Khan said calmly. "I do not appreciate wasting my time negotiating with men who lack the power to make agreements."

"Yoyodyne's Luna shipyard is currently below capacity," the man on the right spoke, reentering the conversation. "It shouldn't be difficult to get you a space in one of their repair docks. I take it you will want secure quarters and warehouse space to house the crew and to hold any 'personal items' while the ship is undergoing repair?"

"I would," Khan agreed. "I would also like to have at least two of my senior officers on hand at all times to monitor things along with three rotating shifts of engineers and a contingent from my ship's marine in addition to the one I will have stationed there to maintain security."

"Marines will be useful to help carry things if nothing else," the admiral snorted.

"I am told that Starfleet Engineers are prone to engaging in brawls," Khan said with a straight face. "I wish to have marines on hand at all times to discourage my people from picking up any bad habits."

"I see that Scotty's been telling tales." The admiral ran a hand down the back of his head. "The fact that it also helps deal with the issue of unauthorized people carrying off 'souvenirs' is beside the point isn't it? Let me assure you that MY people would never engage in such reprehensible behavior." The admiral's eyes flicked to the third person in the room for a split second.

"I have no doubt that your people would not think of engaging in such reprehensible behavior. Scotty vouches for your people, his word is good with me."

"Admiral!" the left bureaucrat protested. "You are supposed to be here in an advisory capacity only. It was agreed that the Diplomatic Service would take the lead in all talks with Mr. Singh and his crew." This was why he hadn't wanted to bring the amateur along, the man didn't know how to deal with primitives. They could have gotten what they'd wanted for the equivalent of a handful of beads if the man had known enough to keep his mouth shut.

"Admiral Dumas, Starfleet Technical Intelligence," the man on the right introduced himself. "Mr. Smith, in my official capacity, I am advising you to be silent while Captain Singh and myself work out a deal both sides can work with."

"I—" The bureaucrat's mouth snapped shut when he saw the look on the flag officer's face. "Yes, Admiral." This was going in his report, it was all going into his report. The Diplomatic Service would not be blamed for the damage done by the cowboys in Starfleet. He checked and was relieved to see that his personal data recorder was on and transcribing every word spoken. On the bright side, no matter what happened, he wasn't going to take the blame.

"Good." The Admiral turned back to Khan. "Tell me about your shuttles?"

"Designed to make contested landings on hostile planets." Khan grinned at the man. "The Empire's failings are many but their capacity for war was unrivaled."

"What do you want in exchange for letting us take them apart?" Dumas asked.

"Less if you're willing to put them back together again, more if you are not," Khan stated. "What are you offering and which do you want?"

IIIIIIIIII

Kirk was in his quarters. It was the last night the crew was scheduled to spend on their ship before the decommissioning ceremony the next day, the last night he'd get to spend with the only girl he'd ever wanted to spend his life with.

"We've had some good times together," he told the ship. "Scotty suggested we take you out for a spin and forget to bring you back." Kirk laughed. "I'm not sure that he was joking, I know I was tempted." He gave the ship another pat. "I never thought I'd outlive you, you know. I always thought that I'd die on some uncharted world like so many of our men or with you in some hopeless battle. I never saw us growing old. Never thought I'd lose you like this."

His communicator beeped. "Kirk here."

"Captain, Mr. Singh on the line for you," the tinny voice of the duty officer reported.

"Put him through to my quarters," Kirk ordered.

"Kirk, I wasn't sure you'd be taking callers tonight," Khan said cheerfully. "I wouldn't have bothered you, but my men tell me the guards at the boarding ramp are being difficult."

"About what?"

"About the five crates of Romulan ale my men are trying to deliver," Khan replied. "It seems they're having trouble counting and think that I meant to deliver four to your crew and one to them."

"I'll have it sorted out, thank you, Khan."

"This isn't a night any of your off duty crew should spend sober, Kirk," Khan stated.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Khan" Kirk said with a smile. "Call me Jim. I have a rule that states: any man who sends my crew five crates of Romulan ale can call me by my given name. Six crates and they can call me whatever they want."

"Noonien," Khan replied. "We've got enough alcohol on this ship to drown the crew a hundred times over." It was one of the better forms of currency in their home universe. "I could think of no better use than to share it with your crew on this night."

Kirk opened his liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff drink. "They're taking my girl away from me tomorrow. In a few months, they're giving her name to a brand new ship." Kirk took a sip. "Even that wouldn't be so terrible if it weren't for the man they put in command."

"That bad?"

"He's his father's son," Kirk spat. "By the book, risk averse, the physical embodiment of everything that's wrong with the Starfleet officer corps, of the rot that's seeping in to transform Starfleet captains into the uniformed branch of the Diplomatic Service." Kirk shot his drink and poured another. "Enough of that. Scuttlebutt says you managed to trade a peek at your ship for a refit?"

"Your Engineers were very interested in the chance to get a good look at my _Reliant_ ," Khan said with a smile. "It wasn't difficult to arrange an exchange." He had a similar deal with Starfleet Intelligence regarding the contents of his computer core. "They're quite skilled. It's more than worth the trouble to keep them away from the things I don't wish them to see." He'd already secured the promised warehouse to store 'personal items' and intended to keep it under heavy guard until they retook possession of the ship and completed a very thorough sweep for bugs.

"I'll bet," Kirk said with a matching grin. "How'd you manage to prevent them from disarming it?" He didn't for a moment believe the other man would let them neuter his ship.

"It's under a Klingon registry," Khan replied. "Their ambassador seems to have taken a liking to me after my daughter Doran broke one of his son's arms, put three of his men into the hospital, and stunned a fourth."

"Klingons," Kirk snorted, wishing he'd been around to see, or better yet participate in, the fight, ironically just like a Klingon. "Did you decide on a new name for your ship or are you going to keep _Reliant_ and say to Hell with Starfleet?"

"I was thinking that I would call her the _John Brown_."

"I hope your Harper's Ferry is more successful than his was."

"We shall see, Jim. I have agreed to try your way, and try I shall." The man frowned in contemplation. "Perhaps I should have chosen a less incendiary name for my attempt at following your path?" The man flicked his hand, dismissing the matter from thought. "It doesn't matter, I named my ship after him as a tribute to his nobility, not because I wished to reenact his life."

There was a knock on his door. "That would be my share of the ale you sent over," Kirk announced.

"Then I shall be signing off," Khan stated. "Enjoy it in good health, Jim."

"Have a good night, Noonien."

IIIIIIIIII

Khan waited until the ship had been dry-docked before leaving the refit in the capable hands of his First Officer and heading back to Earth to begin their relief agency.

It took two days to set up the office and another three before all of his prospective employees were vetted. That done, the only thing left do do was to conduct interviews.

"Have a seat, please," Khan said as the first interviewee, a willowy blonde, stepped into the room.

"Thank you for this opportunity, sir," the young woman gushed. "I can't tell you how much it means to me."

"Your real name is Lt. Karen Delacroix, you were born in Geneva, and you work for Starfleet Intelligence," Khan said calmly. "Do you wish to dispute any of that?"

"What are you going to do to me?" the woman asked, eyes filled with fear as she recalled what she'd been forced to memorize about the Eugenics Wars and how they treated the 'unfit.'

Khan slid a piece of paper across the table. "Here is my price list."

"What?" she said dumbly, staring down at the sheet, struck by how old fashioned it seemed to use actual paper for something.

"I am willing to permit the intelligence and police agencies to saddle me with any number of moles so long as they are willing to pay for them," Khan explained. "You applied to be a secretary. You seem overqualified to me, but the position is yours if you still want it and your other employer is willing to pay the amount specified. I saw from your record that you are also qualified to take over the financial division so that job may instead be yours if you want it."

"I…You're still willing to hire me?"

"Nothing I do here is sensitive," Khan said with a shrug. "As such, I don't care what my employees learn and pass on to others so long as they do their jobs. I do, however, draw the line at paying people to spy on me."

"I see." She licked her lips. "What if I just wanted a quick peek at your financials?"

"Double what I'd expect you to pay to work on them for a month," Khan stated. "They're currently a mess. My crew is very good at freeing slaves and killing concentration camp guards, but..." he trailed off with a Gallic shrug.

"But none of them are accountants."

"Unfortunately, not." Khan took a deep breath. "Do you have any more questions for me?"

"Not at this time," she said, standing up. "May I keep this? I'd like to show it to my superiors." She waved the paper. 

"Of course," Khan agreed. "Would you mind telling the redhead to come in next? His real name is Charles Cummins. He is an investigative reporter for Federation News Service."

"Okay," she agreed, a smile threatening to emerge. "Who does the next one work for?"

"The local police force, after that is someone from an agency that doesn't officially exist, and after that is an agent for the Vulcan V'Shar."

"The way things are going, every one of your employees is going to be a spy," she giggled.

"If I'm lucky," Khan laughed. "I wouldn't have to pay any of them and I'd get a steady source of revenue for our projects."

"Which are?"

"Come work for us and find out," he shot back.

"If nothing else, I can safely say that this was the most unusual job interview I've ever had." She gave a very girlish smile. "Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for yours," he replied.

IIIIIIIIII

In the months since Khan had set up his office, things had exploded. Thanks to the media, he and his people were still very much in the public mind. Thanks to the fact that four fifths of their employees were moles of one sort or another, they were solidly in the black. It had taken no small amount of scheming to set things up so that they had enough moles to reduce their operating costs to almost zero but the results spoke for themselves. Add that to the fact that, thanks to the fact that most intelligence agencies had a large pool of highly skilled people to draw from, their workers were several cuts above anything their friendly rivals had available in terms of aptitude, training, diligence, and, strangely enough, honesty".

"Sir, my superiors want to know why you're buying troop transport ships?" his secretary announced when she arrived that morning.

"Because they make poor freighters but they make better freighters than freighters make transports," he replied calmly. "Tell them I'll shortly be in the market for hospital ships and freighters capable of transporting food and medical supplies."

"Yes, sir," she agreed.

"Oh, and at some point I'm going to want to get more escort ships to protect them when going into dangerous areas. That will probably make them nervous so I think it's best they had time to get used to the idea."

"What's your ultimate goal with this, sir?"

"My ultimate goal is to create a fleet of ships that can evacuate or bring aid to any beleaguered planet they can get to." He grinned. "Tell them I already have a list of prices for crew members if they're interested in giving me more plants."

"I will, sir," she tittered.

"Speaking of plants, you're finishing your course in foreign relations soon, aren't you?"

"I am, sir," she agreed.

"Write up a proposal on how I should go about creating branch offices on several planets inside and outside the Federation and you can be the head of the first one on your planet of choice without costing your other employer a credit more for the first five years."

"Thank you, sir." Her eyes were shining. "This…This is a great opportunity for me."

"I am a firm believer in the idea that the best place to promote is from within." His grin widened. "Even if those you are promoting hold you as their second loyalty. The job is more important than we the players."

Khan spent the next few hours selecting a set of names for his new fleet of ships; the _Harriet Tubman_ , the _Albert Göring_ , the _Cläre Barwitzky_ , the _Oskar Schindler_ , the _Martin Greyfield_ , the _T'Lan_ , the _Chiune Sugihara_. All people who had risked their lives to rescue people from slavery or death. It was both uplifting and depressing to think that he could build a fleet of ten thousand people carriers and still never run out of heroes to name them after. 

"Sir?"

Khan looked up to see his aide standing in the door, looking nervous. "Yes, what is it?"

"It's all over the news wires, sir. They're reporting that Captain James T. Kirk is dead."

AN: Most of the ships were named after real heroes. FF dot Net has apparently decided not to allow reviews to appear. That's new.

Omake for chapter 01-02: Khan's Religion

"Coincidences of the sort that led to our meeting in this new dimension have convinced me that there is a god," Khan said easily. "A close examination of this universe has revealed him to be a petty minded sadist." Who Khan was looking forward to telling just what he thought about how the being chose to run the world. "God exists in my universe as well. Only here, you call him the devil."

Omake for chapter 02

Khan looked up to see his aide standing in the door, looking nervous. "Yes, what is it?"

"It's all over the news wires, sir, they're reporting that Captain James T. Kirk is dead."

"How?"

"He was at the commissioning ceremony for the new Enterprise, something happened and he was trying to save the ship."

"He died the way he would have wanted to," Khan said softly. "Thank you."

Omake for chapter 02: Eulogy

After Kirk's apparent death:

"The short time I knew Kirk was more than enough for me to proudly call him friend. Yet I do not weep at his passing," Khan said, allowing his gaze to sweep over the crowd. "I do not weep because of the way he died, a hero. He died the way he lived, making a difference in the world."

IIIIIIIIII

"Mr. Khan, are you going to be helping the refugees Captain Kirk died to save?!" one of the reporters called out.

"Of course," Khan agreed. "Our aid is available to all that need it. If you or any of your viewers wish to donate, we are happy to provide a list of other organizations that we have investigated and determined to be both honest and honorable. If an organization is not on this list, it simply means we have not yet had time to evaluate them, nothing more."

"Mr. Khan!" another reporter yelled. "Does this mean you aren't accepting donations?!" 

"Not for this, it seems ghoulish to benefit from a friend's death," Khan explained. "I . . . I would give anything and everything I possess to bring him back. For that reason, I cannot bring myself to take so much as a single credit. It may sound silly, but emotions and logic are often at odds."


	3. In the Footsteps of Bonhoeffer

Disclaimer: "A democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch."

― Gary Strand

In the Footsteps of Bonhoeffer

Earth: 2319

Khan allowed his mind to wander as he addressed the Federation Council. In the time since he'd switched universes, he'd lost track of the number of times he'd spoken to that august body, how many times he'd come to push the delegates into doing what they knew to be the right thing. They were good people, he told himself, weak willed but not even they would be willing to overlook the blatant enslavement of a free world on the Federation's border, no matter how far the rot had spread.

The holocameras focused in on Khan's face as his speech came to a close.

"How can anyone who considers himself to be a civilized being stand by and allow the systematic extermination of a people and the rape of their world?" Khan's voice was warm and persuasive, yet another legacy of his engineered genetics and his training from infancy to be a world leader. "We all know what the right course of actions is. If we take it, history will see it as a shining example that the Federation will not stand by and witness acts of extreme brutality when it has the means to end them. I stand before you, begging you to do what your own hearts must cry out for, to give these people back the world that was cruelly stolen from them."

The vote was not even close, the result never in question. Khan felt sick as he watched world after world give meaningless platitudes about how of course they valued freedom, of course they wanted the Bajorans to regain their independence, but not if the cost was a war with the Cardassians. Dogs, jackals, cowards, villains, he could not think of a word foul enough to describe the representatives at that moment. This Federation, this government which seemed so beautiful on the outside had revealed its dark inner core, revealed itself to be worse than the Empire he'd dedicated so much of his life to opposing. He had warned Kirk about the Prime Directive, warned him that the cowards would use it an excuse to do nothing in the face of injustice and tyranny. Damn them for proving him right, damn them for proving his friend wrong.

He turned to leave, nearly running into one of the few members of the Diplomatic Corps he retained any respect for. Too few of the spineless bastards understood that war was an extension, not a failure, of diplomacy. They were the velvet glove that constantly advocated the destruction of the steel fist, never realizing that they'd accomplish nothing without the protection and the power of implied violence.

"Spock," Khan greeted his old friend with barely a ghost of his normally-ever-present grin.

"Noonien," Spock replied neutrally.

"I have tried Kirk's way. For nearly thirty years I have attempted to work within the system, I have tried to convince them to do what is right in favor of what is safe and easy." The man's eyes were filled with rage. "No more. I wash my hands of the Federation and its hollow honor. I will no longer content myself to be Sisyphus pushing the boulder of morality up their slopes of indifference." He took a deep, calming breath and extended his hand. "I wish you the best, my friend. Though I believe your goal be unattainable, I wish with every fiber of my being that you are some-day able to prove me wrong. It is time to set aside the path of Ghandi and to once again walk in the footsteps of Bonhoeffer. I shall miss you, Spock."

"And I you," Spock stated. "As Kirk would say, I'll take the high road, and you take the low road and we shall see who reaches Scotland first. Perhaps one day our paths will meet again. Till that time, I wish you the best in your endeavors."

"God go with you, my friend. Know that there will always be a place for you, should desire it."

"Live long and prosper, Noonien," Spock replied solemnly. "Know that no matter what the future holds, I will always be your friend."

The office was buzzing when he returned. Every employee had watched their boss address the Federation's ruling body and every employee knew what the likely result of their refusal to act would be.

Khan had a few moments alone to pack his personal belongings before the door opened to admit his Chief Financial Officer.

"Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Delacroix?" he asked with a smile.

"We've talked about it and we've agreed that we want to go with you, sir," the silver haired woman stated.

"I'm touched, but I have to ask you to stay," Khan stated.

"Sir, I'll resign from Fleet Intelligence, we all will," she said quickly.

"Tell me, do you think our organization has done good here?" Khan asked. "Do you think our organization helps people? That it's important?"

"Yes, sir," she agreed reluctantly, knowing what was about to be asked of her and, for once, hating the fact that the one asking was one to whom she could refuse nothing.

"Do you think we do things that the others don't? If we were to disappear tomorrow, would someone else take our place?"

"I…No, sir," she admitted.

"That's why I have to ask you to stay," Khan told the woman. "Stay and save more lives, make more of a difference using peaceful methods than I ever will with violence."

"I will, sir," she agreed, voice hitching. "I'll continue your work here while you're out saving the universe."

He picked up the box he'd packed his personal things in. "I hope you approve of your new office. Please feel free to redecorate it to fit your own tastes."

He stepped out into the reception area and was confronted by the smiling faces of nearly everyone who worked in the building.

"When are we leaving, sir?" his secretary asked eagerly.

"My friends," Khan said with a sad smile. "We have built something important here, something that does real good in the face of bureaucratic indifference. Something that is too important to throw away as part of my dramatic gesture." He shook his head. "I am more proud of you and what we have built than I can express with words." A true smile split the man's face. "Keep things progressing as they have been and history will regard the work you do here to be a hundred times more effective than anything I accomplish with more violent means out there. Goodbye, dear friends, don't think too harshly at my tilting at windmills."

"What if we can't take it any more, sir?" one of his ship captains asked.

"No matter what, if you come to me, I will always find a place for you," Khan promised. "I only ask that you give me a few months to make some space first."

The goodbyes were both emotional and time consuming, each employee insisting on giving him a handshake or a hug, and it was nearly dark by the time he was out and on his way to the public transporter pad to return to his ship.

"Great Khan, please wait!" a young female voice called out.

The big man turned to find a young woman wearing the uniform of a second-year midshipman at the Starfleet Academy running towards him. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Great Khan, sir, midshipman Michelle Singh, my mother was one of the people you rescued from Camp 14. I want to go with you," she said breathlessly as she came to a staggering halt.

"Have you spoken to your mother about this?"

"My mother would disown me if she heard that I had a chance to join you and didn't take it," the girl replied. "We owe you everything."

"You owe me nothing," he disagreed. "I did what any civilized being would if given the opportunity."

"Sir, that's all I wish for, the opportunity," she insisted. "I joined StarFleet because I thought it would let me make a difference. I watched your speech to the council and I knew in my heart, with every fiber of my being, that they would vote to support you and that I would soon be risking my life to free a planet from its oppressors."

"But they did not," Khan finished.

"They did not, and they betrayed everything they said they stood for," she agreed. "Everything the Federation is supposed to be."

"Alright," he conceded. "You are correct, but I am still going to ask you to return to the Academy."

"Sir, have you ever heard the phrase, never give any order you aren't willing to follow yourself?" she asked, near tears. "How can you ask me to go back if you're not willing to stay yourself?"

"I can ask you to go back because an Academy graduate is more effective than a two-year midshipman," Khan said, laying a fatherly hand on the girl's shoulder. "If you still insist on coming now, I will of course welcome you with open arms. I could never turn away someone who wants to help, especially not a family member."

"I…I understand," she said, sounding like she wished she did not. "I will graduate at the top of my class, I will make you proud, Great Khan."

"You already have," he assured her.

"I will find you in two years, Great Khan," she promised.

"I will look forward to our reunion, Michelle Singh," Khan replied. "Tell your mother, I wish her well and that I am glad she was able to find a new life on Earth."

"I will. Goodbye, Great Khan, and good luck."

"Goodbye, Michelle," Khan replied, stepping onto the transporter pad and beaming up to his ship.

Khan looked around the bridge, seeing the familiar faces of his original crew mixed with those of their children and, in two cases, grandchildren. "My friends, we tried to work within their system. For nearly three decades we tried and accomplished great things." He shook his head sadly. "My patience with the Federation is at an end. I am determined to cast my lot into the universe, to risk everything to save others. I ask, are you with me?"

The cheer that followed was deafening. "Knowing that we may be going to our deaths, knowing that we may accomplish nothing, are you with me?" Another deafening cheer followed. "My friends, I will give you a chance to leave, the first of many. No shame will fall on you if you chose to remain behind, no one will think less of you if your patience with the Federation exceeds my own, that you are strong enough to do what I cannot. My friends, I am asking you, no begging you, to reconsider your choice to follow me on a path that promises only death and heartache."

"Great Khan," his part-Vulcan second began, her voice proud. "There are a thousand in line behind each one of us. None here would ever give up their spot at your side for anything in the universe."

"I see." Tears were flowing down the man's wrinkled face. "My friends, no man deserves loyalty such as you give, no man deserves the honor of your company, no words exist to described how moved I am at this moment." He took a deep breath. "Set a course for the Valo system. That's where the largest refugee camp has been set up to receive the Bajorans lucky enough to escape the fall of their home. Let us see if we can gather a bit of intelligence."

IIIIIIIIIIII

Delacroix tugged at her uniform blouse, trying to find a way to make it more comfortable. It had been years since she'd worn it, not since she'd begun her long term undercover assignment, and she found it a bit more confining, both figuratively and literally thanks to pounds that had seemingly appeared from nowhere, than she remembered. No matter, she wasn't going to have to wear it for long.

"Commodore's ready for you, Captain Delacroix," the man's Flag Lieutenant reported.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she replied, rising to her feet.

She stepped into the office and marveled at the fact that her superior's waistline had expanded another two inches and that his hairline had receded three. Another point underscoring just how long it had been since she had made an in person report. She almost regretted what she was about to do. The Commodore had been a decent, if unimaginative, boss. Much better than the one before him though much worse than the one before that.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Captain," the Commodore said.

"Not at all, Commodore, I was just about to ask your aide to schedule an appointment when I got the call," she replied. "Before he left, Khan asked me to take his place as Chief Executive. I accepted."

"Wonderful." The man's eyes were gleaming. "With you in charge of Khan's organization we can—"

"I'm afraid you misunderstand," she said coldly. "I came to turn in my resignation and to tell you that all Federation intelligence organs will have their fees raised twenty five percent in retaliation for driving off the finest man any of us have ever known." Her eyes were filled with rage under a layer of unshed tears"?

"What if we refuse to pay?" her former superior demanded, shocked to his very core by what he was hearing.

"You will pay," she said with cold certainty. If they didn't, they risked every intelligence officer in the organization making public everything they knew with the enthusiastic support of every news organization in the sector.

IIIIIIIIII

The crew of the _John Brown_ were at their battle stations with their shields up and weapons hot when the ship dropped out of warp. The Valo System was, at least in theory, within Starfleet's defensive perimeter, a term that was coming to mean less and less as men like Kirk retired or were forced out of command in favor of more cautious, politically acceptable replacements.

"Detecting multiple ships," the ops officer announced. "The majority seem to be civilian and troop transports, the rest is a mix of everything. At a guess, the Bajorans packed everything spaceworthy with as many people as the could. There are also six bulk freighters, two hospital ships, and three … Make that four more Mirandas."

"Hail the Mirandas," Khan ordered.

A tiny black-and-silver-haired Japanese woman appeared on the screen. "Commodore Nakamura, commander of Task Force McCoy," she introduced herself. "Do I have the honor of speaking with the infamous Khan?"

"I am Khan, but with my increasing infamy I do not know how much honor there is in speaking with me."

"You probably don't remember me. I was an ensign on one of Captain Scott's Engineering crews when your ship arrived in this universe," she said.

"I remember a young ensign named Nakamura who got stuck in one of the conduit shafts for nearly an hour when she accidentally shorted out the door controls," Khan mused.

"That was me," she said in delight. "Taught me to always double check everything. Saved my life a few years later."

"A pleasure to see you again, Commodore Nakamura," Khan said warmly. "May I ask what your mission here is?"

"Humanitarian relief. Trying to set up temporary housing for the Bajoran refugees. Original plan was to put them all on the third planet, but the sheer number of refugees has changed all that. Current plan is to put them in the tropical belt of the first three planets and the M class moon."

"Do you need our assistance?"

"You already gave it," she laughed. "Every ship here that isn't a Miranda or Bajoran is one of yours. We'd have been lost without the supplies in those freighters and a lot of people would have died if not for the hospital ships. We're barely above water, but we're above it." She shook her head in disgust. "I don't know who was responsible for the estimate on how many refugees we'd get but they were off by a couple of decimal points. May I ask your objective here? Recruiting?"

"I'm merely here to get what information I can before leaving Federation space," Khan stated. "My ship is a bit full to recruit at the moment."

"Fair warning, there have been rumors that you're going to be labeled a pirate if you do anything to inhibit the peaceful annexation of Bajor by the Cardassian Union." She raised her fingers to make quote signs around the world _peaceful_. "That happens, they'll send an arrest on sight order to all Starfleet ships."

"The Prime Directive says that you can-not stop me from going," Khan replied calmly.

"True," Nakamura agreed with a grin. "Especially if you take the time to get a Letter of Marque and Reprisal from the Bajoran Government in Exile before you enter Cardassian space. Oh my, that would also prevent the Federation from arresting you for piracy, now wouldn't it?"

"I wasn't aware there was a Bajoran Government in Exile," Khan observed.

"There isn't. Is this a good time to tell you how much easier my job would be if you helped them form one?"

Khan laughed. "Could you at least start me out with a list of names?"

"I can do better, I can give you the name of the ship carrying what little of their government that managed to get out. They seem to be a pretty good lot; all the bad ones stayed behind to collaborate and all the cowards didn't have the balls to run the blockade to get here."

"That would be most helpful," Khan stated.

"On its way, along with a what we've managed to put together about the people on it." Nakamura leaned forward with a look of eager anticipation. "So tell me, does your ship have as good a table as it used to?"

"Perhaps you and your some of your officers would like to come over tonight and find out for yourselves?" Khan suggested.

"I believe we would," Nakamura agreed. "Thank you."

"An old friend is always a welcome addition to my table, especially when they promise to bring several new friends with them," Khan said.

"Wonderful, have your comm tech talk to mine to arrange the time after you arrange that government for me."

"I will," Khan promised.

"Wonderful. Nakamura, out." The screen changed back to a view of local space.

"See if you can get in contact with the Bajoran ship," Khan ordered.

"I've connected, Great Khan, audio only."

"This is Captain Rhit of the BSS…of the starship _Janitza_. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" a tired baritone asked.

"Khan Noonien Singh of the starship _John Brown_. I'm here to help."

"More aid supplies? I suppose that would be nice," the voice said. "I think we've got enough for the people we've brought, but your freighter captains could better tell you than I can."

"I have come here to help liberate Bajor," Khan replied. "Not to deliver supplies."

"What?" Captain Rhit gasped. "But—"

"Captain Khan, this is Solis Adami, acting First Minister," a woman's voice broke in. "Would it be possible for me to transport to your ship for a face to face meeting?"

"Of course."

"If your ship is capable of locking onto my signal, I am ready at any time."

"You will be here momentarily," Khan stated, giving his first officer a nod. " _John Brown_ , out."

" _Janitza_ , out."

"Have her escorted to the meeting room," Khan ordered. "T'Pera, you have the bridge."

"Yes, Great Khan," his First Officer agreed.

Solis Adami turned out to be a surprisingly young woman, looking no older than thirty-five or -six, with dark hair and bright, excited eyes.

"A pleasure to meet you, Acting First Minister Solis," Khan said, rising to his feet as she entered the room.

"The pleasure belongs to me, Great Khan. You are the reason there are so many of us," the woman said with a smile.

"Oh?"

"I was on the delegation we were going to send to the Federation. We had thought that if we asked for help, that Federation scrutiny would improve the conditions if not force the Cardassians out entirely. Your speech, or rather, their response to your speech, the justifications they made to leave us to our fate, convinced us that it would be a fool's errand. We filled every ship we could find and came here while the remainder of the military bought us time to run. From my heart, on behalf of my people, I thank you for the chance you gave us, for the fifteen million souls your actions saved from a lifetime of servitude and slavery." She gave a deep bow. "We happy escapees owe you everything."

"You owe me nothing," Khan disagreed. "The reason I help is because I can not stand by and retain respect for myself. Pure selfishness on my part."

"What can free Bajor do for you, Great Khan?"

"I had hoped for a Letter of Marque and Reprisal," Khan replied. "Failing that, a bit of recent intelligence on the status of your home system."

"Myself and every other member of the government and Vedek assembly will be happy to issue a Letter of Marque and each of us will personally sign it, if you think it would be of some use."

"It will be, at least when dealing with the Federation, if Commodore Nakamura recognizes your government in exile," Khan assured her.

"Is she likely to?"

"She asked me to help you set one up, so I would be surprised if she is not," Khan stated.

"Wonderful. I shall also instruct my captains to provide sensor records and to cooperate if you wish to get any more personal information." The woman's smile disappeared and she took a deep breath. "Is there any other assistance you require of me?"

"Would you be willing to stay for a few hours to answer any questions my crew might have about Bajor and Bajoran culture?" he asked.

"Of course." Her smile returned. "I am willing to do anything that might aid in restoring freedom to my people. A bit of my time to answer questions is the least I can do."

The next three hours were a blur of questions and lectures to give Khan and his crew some idea of what the political situation was like in Bajor when she left and how to avoid stepping on any number of cultural land mines.

Khan opened his mouth to ask another question when his communicator chirped. "Yes, what is it?"

"Great Khan," his second in command's voice came through. "You are scheduled to dine with the Commodore and her officers in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, T'Pera, I lost track of time," he admitted. Khan turned back to his guest. "You are of course welcome to join us if you wish."

"I'm afraid I must turn you down. My people are surviving on ration bars." Her lip curled in disgust. "It would not be right for me to eat better than they can, not even for one meal. No matter how tempting."

IIIIIIIIII

Commodore Nakamura took a few minutes to inspect the officers she'd selected to accompany her to Khan's ship to assure herself that the junior officers hadn't forgotten what they'd learned at the academy and the senior officers didn't feel left out.

"Just remember that you are Starfleet officers and that I expect you all to be a credit to your uniforms unless you want me to dredge my memory to bring up what Captain Kirk used to do to people that did something to annoy him," she finished. The man had had a gift thinking up punishments that were both funny and something you never wanted to repeat in this life or the next.

"Yes, Commodore," the midshipmen squeaked.

"Good." She swiveled her head to sweep her gaze over her commissioned officers, making sure they knew her lecture and threats had also been directed at them.

A large, apparently human, crewman was waiting at the transporter pad when they arrived on Khan's ship, the _John Brown_.

"Commodore," the crewman said. "If you will follow me, I will take you to Great Khan's meeting room."

"Why do you call him Great Khan?" she asked curiously.

"Because he is," the crewman replied. "Nearly every member of the crew is either someone he rescued or the descendant of someone rescued, even the Augments. The first handful he led off Earth, the majority he saved from a cryo-bank. The Empire deemed them too unreliable to allow to mature to adulthood and too potentially valuable to dispose of." It had been one of their more expensive mistakes.

"Thank you, Crewman, proceed." The Commodore noted with pleasure that her junior officers had soaked up every word.

They went down two corridors, up a turbo lift, and down another corridor to the ship's conference room. Nakamura noting in private the fact that the crew was still in the process of turning into a makeshift dining room, driving home just how different Khan's band of renegades was from any of the formal navies she'd dealt with over the course of the career. The outward indiscipline contrasting oddly with the professionalism she could sense at their core.

"Commodore Nakamura," Khan greeted the woman with a smile. "Welcome to my ship."

"Captain Khan," the woman replied. "Please allow me to present my officers: Captain French of the _Sofia_." She indicated a stern-looking man of European stock. "Commander Jennings, first officer of the _Soyokaze_." A young blonde woman. "Lieutenant T'Vak." An impassive Vulcan. "Chief Helmsman of the _Soyokaze_. Ensign McAlester, my aide, Ensign Bk'va'tu of the _Sofia_ , and—" She waved her hand at three individuals in uniforms so new they still had creases. "Midshipmen; something, something, and something, who will be granted the privilege of names after they've either done something to annoy or impress me." She leaned in and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I did my very best to keep the captain on my midshipman cruise from learning my name as long as possible. That's why I pretend not to know Mr. Je'lax's, Ms. Vktran's, or Ms. Smith's names."

"Of course," Khan laughed. "Permit me to introduce some of mine. My First Officer, T'Pera, my Doctor—" An aging Romulan male. "—Tomalak, and my Tactical Officer, Talas." A young Andorian female. "Thank you for accepting my invitation to dine."

"Thank you for giving it," Nakamura replied.

They took their seats, arranged so that the Commodore was seated next to her host and her officers were mixed with those of the _John Brown_. Moments later, several patters of assorted delicacies were placed on the table.

"Are those Borean Lobsters?" Captain French asked.

"They are, Khan agreed. "I believe in setting a good table whenever possible."

"This isn't just a special meal?" French blurted, eyebrows raised.

"The only thing your presence changed about the meal was the quantity produced," Khan stated.

"This gets out, it'll push half the fleet to resign to join your cause," Commodore Nakamura joked. "The _Soyokaze_ has good meals, but nothing like this."

"Thank you for the compliment, but I would hope that any who would join me would do their best to stay in Starfleet as long as possible," Khan replied.

"Oh? I thought you'd be happy for the extra manpower?" the Commodore asked.

"I have learned in the last thirty years that it is better to walk the path of Kirk as long as you can. I will tell you what I would tell anyone else: stay in Starfleet, talk to your fellows, try to change things from within as long as you can stand to. When you can bear no more, I will be waiting. If the thought of taking up arms does not appeal to you, as it should not, there are a number of non-violent organizations that would jump at the chance to employ an ex-Starfleet officer or crewman to aid their relief efforts."

Nakamura gave one of her midshipmen a nod.

"T-to K-Kirk, the Federation, and our honored host," Midshipman Smith, an elfin blonde, stammered.

"Kirk, the Federation, and our host," the officers echoed.

"Any idea how you're going to prevent the Cardassians from sweeping in to take out the government in exile after you put it together?" Nakamura asked, spearing a tasty morsel with her fork.

"Federation law allows for independent systems within its defensive perimeter to own and operate independent defense forces," Khan said calmly.

"Not sure the politicians back at Earth will agree with your interpretation," Commodore Nakamura said calmly. "Not when it's so close to the border where it might, gasp, actually be used."

"I wish I could believe they would protect the refugees because it was the right thing to do." Khan said. "Failing that, I wish I could believe they would protect the system because it lies within their defensive perimeter. I do not."

"Can't argue with that logic," the woman chirped. "Might be best to have it up and running before Earth learned about it. They'll come to stop you if you're building it, they'll growl and pretend it doesn't exist if it's up and they'd lose a ship or two taking it."

"How long will you be here?"

"Supposed to be another six months at least. Patrolled every three weeks after that."

"That should be enough time to set something up," Khan mused. "I have a bit of influence with one of the Klingon Sector Governors that could be used to help acquire a few things." Long past time to visit his daughter and son-in-law anyway.

"Less I know about it, the better," Nakamura said firmly. "What do you want in trade for any sensor readings and battle data about the Cardassian fleet?"

The negotiating, reminiscing, and drinking went into the small hours of the night. None of the junior officers was willing to risk besmirching the honor of their ships by turning in too early, none of the senior officers was willing to leave the junior officers unsupervised.

IIIIIIIIII

As was her habit, T'Pera was up early the next morning and spent several productive hours going over the sensor readings the Bajorans had gotten as they'd fled their home system. They weren't much; almost none of the ships had possessed military grade equipment and what they did have was poor even by merchant standards. Perils of being from a small, relatively poor, system she supposed.

Her captain arrived on the bridge at his usual time, three hours after she did, and asked for a report of all that had happened since he'd given up the con the day before.

"Commodore Nakamura has sent us an official protest demanding that we put a halt to our plans to provoke the Cardassian Union, Great Khan," T'Pera reported. "In it she explicitly recognizes the authority of the Bajoran Government in Exile to grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal and the validity of the letter that was transmitted to us by the government in exile, noted a number of Starfleet regulations including the Prime Directive that prevent her or any other Starfleet ship from stopping us, and listed several treaties to which the Federation is a signatory that explicitly recognize that Letters of Marque and Reprisal are legitimate instruments of war."

"Remind me to do something nice for her at some point," Khan said, his smile widening.

"Of course, Great Khan," she agreed.

"Anything else?"

"Engineering has the _widget_ _—_ " decades of habit causing her to refer to the device by its code name even in the secure environment of the ship "—out and is fine tuning it. They say it will take at least six hours to get it to their satisfaction. I believe, but can not prove, that it will take four and that the six hour estimate is due to the fact that our Chief Engineer spent a bit too much time around Captain Scott before his disappearance." She forced herself to shoot him a matching smile. "Other than that, we are ready to go to war when you command, Great Khan."

AN: Title is based on a man you should know.

Looks like reviews are up again. Couple people didn't seem to get the fact that the Khan in this story is from the Mirror Universe, he's as good as the cannon Khan is bad. He's not liable for any crimes committed by the other Khan as he is not the one who committed them. Continuing that thought, he was not a genocidal dictator either. He was one of the greatest heroes and freedom fighters the other universe ever knew. Least, as written in this story he was.

Kirk's 'death' was his trip to the Nexus, see _Generations_.

Omake/Extra Scene set between 03 and 04: Raid on Bajor

"Dropping out of warp in two minutes," Ops reported.

"Engage cloak," Khan ordered.

"Yes, sir," his tactical officer agreed.

"Dropping warp in three . . . two . . . one . . . now," Ops finished the countdown.

"What do we have?" Khan asked.

"Sensors picking up multiple hostile contacts," Tactical reported. "There are two that have strayed too far to be supported by the group. An ore freighter and a troop transport."

"Set up an attack vector," Khan said. "Target the transport first, we'll hit the freighter on our way out."

"Yes, Great Khan," Tactical agreed.

"Should we launch a probe?" his second asked.

"Drop it, but keep the power low enough that it won't be spotted until we're at least three AUs away," Khan ordered.

"If we release it just after the next course correction, it'll drift into the main portion of their fleet," T'Pera pointed out.

"I leave the matter in your capable hands," Khan replied.

Omake/Extra Scene set between 03 and 04: Klingons

"Governor, I came to your planet to buy weapons only to discover that you are holding two hundred sentients prisoner. Perhaps you could tell me what crime they committed?" Khan's voice was dangerously calm.

"Plotting against the Empire," the Klingon sector governor growled. "I invite you to stay a week to witness their executions."

"I see. Tell me, how does a five year old child constitute a threat to the Klingon Empire?"

"Guards!" The two burly Klingon warriors flanking the man took a menacing step forward.

"I never would have believed that the Klingon Empire would permit a coward to rise so high. It seems I was wrong." The two guards resumed their earlier position, the one on the left trying, and failing to conceal a grin.

The Klingon Governor rose to his feet and snatched a long, sword like, Mek'leth from it's place on the wall. The man was confident that no human, especially not the ancient one before him could be any sort of threat. He was very, very wrong.


	4. Liberation

Disclaimer: Never forget the heroes of Cabanatuan.

Liberation

Starfleet Academy: 2321

The new midshipmen took their seats and waited for the graduation ceremony to commence. One of them, a young woman, took hers next to the podium. For two years she had worked like a demon to take the top slot. Nothing else had mattered. She had made a promise to the head of her family, to the man to whom they owed everything. Nothing would be allowed to get in the way of her carrying out her promise.

A distant part of her mind noted everything that was going on around her; the rest was occupied by thoughts of her plan. She knew that none of her preparations had been discovered; they'd have never permitted her to come anywhere near the podium if they had. The seconds felt like hours, the minutes like years, the wait was excruciating until it was finally her turn to speak.

The young woman stepped up to the podium and cleared her throat. With a serious look on her face, she began, "Many people have asked about my family name, Singh. Those who know anything about Sikh culture know that it is not used by women." She gave the crowd a tight smile. "I have chosen not to explain it until now. My mother spent most of her early years in a place called Camp 14, a place where so-called traitors to the Terran Empire were sent to die a slow death along with their children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, parents, grandparents, and great grandparents, husbands, wives, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles. Often friends and neighbors, too. There they experienced horrors none of us can imagine, horrors of the sort that give my mother weekly nightmares thirty years after liberation."

"My mother used to tell me stories about her arrival in this universe." She smiled, a genuine one this time. "About how a kind doctor with the face of a monster treated her and the others, about how a man with a funny accent would build toys for her and the other children when he wasn't helping the crew fix the ship, about how Starfleet's greatest captain escorted them to Earth and made sure everyone had a home." She shook her head. "I've wanted to join Starfleet since before I knew what it was, to rub shoulders with giants, to get a chance to help people like my mother was helped." She plucked the fleet insignia off of her blouse and cast it to the ground.

"That changed two years ago. Two years ago I watched as the morally bankrupt cowards in the Federation Council voted to deny aid to the people of Bajor, how they claimed it was an internal Cardassian matter, how one planet wasn't worth embroiling the Federation in a pointless war. The Federation helped my mother when she arrived in this universe, but it was the Great Khan Noonien Singh that rescued her. While the Federation is willing to stand aside and abet genocide through indifference, the Great Khan is not. I call on you, to join me, throw off Starfleet's brand of corruption and join the Great Khan's struggle to—" she was cut off when the academy staff finally managed to get through her security measures to shut off her microphone.

"I stand with Khan!" one of the midshipmen screamed, ripping off her Starfleet insignia and dropping it to the ground.

"I stand with Khan!" another voice bellowed.

To the horror of one part of the staff and the private amusement of the other, they watched as nearly a third of the graduating class resigned to go to war.

"STAND WITH KHAN! STAND WITH KHAN! STAND WITH KHAN!" the former midshipmen chanted.

Starfleet had just lost a significant fraction of its new crop of officers. In the audience, many of the younger midshipmen watched and began to plan.

IIIIIIIIII

There was a palpable sense of anticipation as the crew of the _John Brown_ prepared for battle. In the two years since they'd started their crusade, every one of them had become a veteran of the harshest sort of guerrilla war imaginable. The crew shrugged into vacuum suits and double checked their personal weapons.

"Marty Jackson, Federation news service," the woman whispered into the holocamera. "I am standing here on the battle bridge of the starship _John Brown_ as she prepares to conduct a raid on a Cardassian prisoner of war camp. The mood is tense, everyone here knows the risks of what they are about to do, that they may be asked to give up everything for the sake of others." She walked over to the command chair. "First Officer T'Pera, can I ask for your thoughts on the operation you are about to conduct?"

"Of course," the part-Vulcan agreed. "But please permit me to correct one error before we begin."

"What error?"

"You characterized our mission as a raid to rescue prisoners of war. That is only partially correct," the woman explained. "Bajoran society was set up on a caste system before the Cardassians took control. The vast majority of the people we are rescuing are non-combatants."

"Are you telling me that the Cardassians imprisoned not just Bajoran military personnel, but their families as well?"

"I am," T'Pera agreed. "When one looks at the situation from their point of view, it is easy to see the logic of their actions. The extermination of the Bajoran military caste removes the heart of the potential resistance movement against them."

The woman shuddered at the cold statement, cold and logical even for a Vulcan. "Would you mind telling our viewers what the plan is?" Focusing on getting as much live footage canned for eventual broadcast as a way of taking her mind off the horror they expected to find.

"We received intelligence on the camp's location and probable population three months ago, Marty. Since then we have been doing our best to capture and crew enough transport ships to evacuate anyone we are lucky enough to rescue. Our ship, the _John Brown_ , will go in first to scout the system. If it is clear of any forces we cannot overcome, it will signal the rest of the fleet to warp in. Once resistance has been cleared, we will launch assault shuttles to land marines and liberate the camp."

"Why not use a captured Cardassian ship to scout the system?" Marty asked.

"We have not been able to take any armed Cardassian ships recently enough. Your plan requires up-to-date transponder codes matching the vessel transmitting them, which admittedly some of our transport ships may have. Unfortunately, any transport ships with up-to-date codes lack the weapons, shields, and sensors needed to pull the mission off in case it turns bad."

"What—" She went silent when the intercom chirped, announcing a ship-wide message.

"We will be dropping out of warp in five minutes," Khan's voice announced. "Those of you who were with me in the old world know what we have to do. We are going in to save the lives of a number of people from a very bad situation. You are about to see some of the horrors a sentient being can do to another. You will be tempted to return some of it to the monsters who inflicted it. That is both a common and a reasonable desire, but I beg you not to act on it. One thing, one of the many, that separates us from them is that we are and remain clean. We must never permit ourselves to sink to their level." The man gave a deep, heavy sigh. "I can give you a thousand practical reasons why that is so, from the support we would lose in the Federation if we allowed ourselves to turn into what we fight to the fact that it would make Cardassian soldiers fight harder if they knew that death in battle was the most merciful end that they could hope for. Instead, I will give you only one. We act as we do because it is the right way to act. That is all, thank you." 

"What did he mean by that?" Marty asked.

"I have served under the Great Khan for the majority of my life," T'Pera stated. "In that time, I have seen horrors which you can-not imagine. The monstrous depths sentient beings can sink to is truly staggering. Witnessing those depths understandably provokes unthinking rage in many civilized individuals."

"He was saying that to protect the Cardassians from the crew if the treatment of the prisoners is as bad as he fears it will be," Marty said in understanding.

"If unleashed, they might visit a full measure of horror on the camp guards. Horror that would feel both good at the time it was carried out, but noxious and evil once reason had returned. Great Khan is attempting to protect the crew from itself."

IIIIIIIIII

Khan forced himself to lean back in his chair and look relaxed. Panic and calm were both contagious, and he owed it to his crew to keep them from seeing how tense he was.

"Dropping out of warp in two minutes," Helm reported.

"Engage cloak," Khan ordered.

"Yes, sir," Talas, his Andorian tactical officer acknowledged.

"Dropping warp in three . . . two . . . one . . . now," Helm finished the countdown.

"One Galor-class cruiser and three freighters in orbit around the fourth planet, Great Khan," his Tactical officer reported. "No other ships in the system."

"Status of the Galor?"

"Shields down. Looks like it came as an escort for the freighters," Ops replied.

"Helm, get us close," Khan ordered. "Tactical, I want their shield generators and phaser banks hit first. Send over boarding parties after that."

"Yes, Great Khan," the Andorian acknowledged.

"Ops, activate the subspace signal after we fire our first salvo."

"Yes, Great Khan," the officer agreed.

IIIIIIIIII

T'Pera waved for the reporter to take a seat as she strapped herself in. This was the hardest part of her job, sitting in the auxiliary bridge and waiting, knowing that none of her actions mattered unless the main bridge cut out, indicating the probable death of her leader.

"What's happening?" Marty asked.

"Great Khan is attempting to take the Cardassian ship," T'Pera replied.

"How does he know it's not a trap?"

"The situation does not appear to be anything other than what a plain reading suggests," T'Pera stated calmly. "What concerns me is the fact that our intelligence stated there were at least two Galor-class cruisers and at least six armed shuttles on station to act as a system defense force. We are either considerably more lucky than we have a right to be, or they have found a way to hide from our sensors."

"What will you do if they show up?" 

"Our mission is to free the prisoners. If more ships appear, we will keep them away from the transports until they have safely warped out of the system," T'Pera stated. "No matter what it might cost us, we will see the prisoners liberated."

"First shot disabled their shield generators, boarding parties on the Galor and the transports," the woman at the Ops station reported.

"Has the subspace signal been activated to call in the rest of the fleet, Ms. Kronah?" T'Pera prompted.

"It has." The woman's eyes were glued to her sensor readings. "Escort ships have arrived …transports have arrived, ETA to the planet is four minutes. Lord Khan has ordered the boarding party we sent to the Galor to warp to the rally point as soon as they have control."

"Good." T'Pera felt herself start to relax.

"We've captured an enemy cruiser?" Marty asked incredulously, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be a neutral outside observer."

"It appears so," T'Pera replied. "We were fortunate in that we were able to disable their shields before they were able to raise them."

"What—" Marty cut off when the crew sprang back into action.

"Contact!" Kronah said suddenly. "Four large, eight small emerging from behind the fifth moon of the eighth planet. Large identified as more Galor-class cruisers, small look to be assault shuttles, unknown class."

"Make sure the main bridge has been informed," T'Pera ordered. "Ms. Kronah, you have my position."

"Yes, T'Pera."

"Ms. Jackson, I'm going down to the planet with the marines to supervise the evacuation of the prisoners. You and your crew are welcome to accompany me." Mostly to make doubly sure no accidents befell the Cardassian guard force.

"I …Yes, of course," the reporter agreed, following the part-Vulcan down the corridor to the shuttle bay. "Will they be able to beat the other ships?"

"They do not need to. If our estimates of the number of people we need to evacuate is correct, they only need hold for an additional ten minutes." She stepped into the armored landing craft and helped the journalists strap in.

"That's not very much time!" Marty exclaimed.

"We have fifteen minutes before the enemy ships can engage our forces. That coupled with the fact that Cardassians make very efficient troop transport ships equipped with transporters purpose built to transport large numbers of people. Even leaving aside the fact that the military caste of Bajor can be counted upon to move quickly and efficiently, without panic, we should have more than enough time to complete our mission," T'Pera said simply. "The assault shuttles to secure a beachhead and to provide close air support, they are not used for the evacuation aside from providing security."

IIIIIIIIII

Khan studied the plotting board trying to work out a strategy as the troop ships took up positions to evacuate the planet.

"Landing craft have been launched, boarding parties have taken control and are heading to the rendezvous site per T'Pera's orders," the Ops officer reported.

"Talas, engage cloak," Khan ordered. "Contact the _Kirk_ , the _Louverture_ , and the _Bonhoeffer_. I want them to advance in a reverse triangle formation with the _Kirk_ and the _Louverture_ in the front and the _Bonhoeffer_ in the back to provide support."

"Yes, Great Khan," the Andorian tactical officer agreed.

"You know what to do, we drop cloak and fire. Use your judgment after that and either keep the shields up or cloak and reposition."

IIIIIIIIII

The landing shuttle screamed through the atmosphere on its way to the target, landing with a jolt after a few minutes. The landing ramps dropped and the rotten stench of feces mixed with the sweet smell of decaying flesh filled the craft.

T'Pera waited until the marines had left before rising and waving for the reporters and her crew to do the same. "The site should be secure, but that does not mean that it is," she stated, belting on an old-style laser pistol. "Stick close to me, keep your transporter beacons on at all times, and seek cover if there is any fighting."

"Alright," Marty agreed.

"If the worst happens and you are captured, I suggest telling them that you are accredited journalists from the Federation, that you are here against your will, and that you are willing to testify against us for our criminal actions," T'Pera continued. "With luck, that may be enough to prevent your summary executions." She pulled out a communicator as she walked down the landing ramp.

It was bright outside, much brighter than the interior of the shuttle, and Marty found that she had to blink her eyes several times before they adjusted to the harsh sunlight.

It was a hot world. Vulcans would have found it pleasantly warm, humans and Bajorans just on the edge of being uninhabitable. The area they'd beamed to was completely devoid of vegetation, making Marty wonder if it had always been so or if it had been cleared to make the camp. The Bajoran prisoners, those few that were able to do more than lift their heads off the ground to peer at their rescuers, looked like ambulatory skeletons. Marty then could not suppress the thought that the prisoners had eaten every bit of plant life and every insect in order to postpone starvation a tiny bit.

"Why—" The reporter clenched her teeth to keep the bile down. "Why are they in such bad shape? I've seen the pictures from the other camps you liberated, but none of them were like this!"

"The other camps were labor camps with extermination as a byproduct," T'Pera explained. "This was an extermination camp with labor as a byproduct. We estimate that fifteen million warrior caste Bajorans were taken alive by the Cardassian occupation forces."

"How…How many are left?" Marty asked.

"We have space on the transports we captured for three million," T'Pera stated. "It is looking as if we overestimated the number of seats we would need by a considerable margin."

"My god, are you saying—" Her knees buckled as she emptied her stomach.

"It is possible that the Cardassians hid another portion of the warrior caste prisoners somewhere else," T'Pera stated calmly. "I do not believe we are so fortunate, but it harms nothing to hope. We are leaving in five minutes. You will need to hurry if you wish to get your photographs."

"I thought you said it would take ten," Marty asked.

"It would have if there were three million of them left," T'Pera explained softly. "Five minutes will give us enough time to evacuate the camp and to remove the computer core for later analysis."

"I—"

"Get your pictures," T'Pera said gently. "Show the universe what happened here."

IIIIIIIIII

The battle was going well. The Cardassian ships were more heavily armed and equipped with slightly better shields, but it was evident that their captains were not used to working together, fighting as a group of individuals rather than a single unit like his ships. It was more than enough to offset the fact that his forces, aside from the _John Brown_ , were less heavily armed and shielded, even if they were fighting to stalemate rather than win, giving them yet another tactical advantage.

"Command ship's shields are down," Talas, the Tactical Officer, reported as the ship in question absorbed another volley of phaser fire.

"Tell them they have five minutes to evacuate," Khan ordered. "Concentrate on other targets unless they try to reenter the fight."

"They won't," the Ops officer stated. "Sensors report a warp core breach in progress."

"Order our ships to withdraw to a safe distance," Khan said quickly. "Focus on ship number two."

"The _Kirk's_ been hit. They report loss of life support on decks three through seven," comms reported.

"Tell them to retreat to the rally point if they still have warp. To evacuate to the transport ships and scuttle if they do not," Khan said instantly.

"Captain T'Rul states that he can get his shields up and be back in the fight in two minutes," comms relayed.

"Tell Captain T'Rul that I am pleased to hear it, but that my orders stand."

"Yes, Great Khan." The communications officer cocked her head. "T'Pera reports that they can lift in three minutes."

"Tell her that we will pick her up on our way out," Khan ordered. "Tell the _Louverture_ and the _Bonhoeffer_ to prepare to break contact. Order is _Louverture_ , us, _Bonhoeffer_."

The ship shook. "Shields down ten percent," Talas stated.

"T'Pera reports all prisoners evacuated from surface, computer core removed," comms called out. "Transports moving out of the gravity well, going to warp in fifteen seconds."

"Break contact," Khan ordered.

The screen, showed a move reminiscent of of the Australian Peel, an ancient method of breaking contact used by ground forces for thousands of years.

The long form of the former Orion raider, _Toussaint Louverture_ simultaneously fired every forward phaser bank and emptied each of its six forward torpedo tubes at its opponents before turning away from the fight and emptying its four chaser tubes as it engaged its warp engines. Exactly ten seconds later, the _John Brown_ repeated the other ship's actions, but heading towards the planet at full impulse to pick up her landing craft rather than leave the system.

"Raise cloak once we've retrieved our shuttles," Khan ordered, allowing himself to relax when his other ship disappeared into warp and the Cardassian ships did not seem inclined to follow.

IIIIIIIIII

T'Pera gave a rare smile when the shuttle made orbit, hoping to reassure the nervous reporters that everything would work out.

"What happens now?" Marty asked.

"The _John Brown_ picks us up and we leave the system," T'Pera replied. "It seems we have succeeded."

"I mean to the prisoners," Marty said. "The Bajorans and the ones we took."

"The Bajoran prisoners will receive emergency medical care until we can get them to Valo II, which has very extensive hospital facilities and a staff experienced in providing medical care to people rescued from camps such as the one we just raided."

"There are more like that?" Marty asked sickly.

"There are often small…punishment sections of normal camps that are smaller versions of the one we just destroyed." She cut off when she felt the shuttle lock into its docking cradle. "Much smaller scale. We also have credible intelligence that there are other camps on the scale we just witnessed to deal with internal dissidents." The part-Vulcan rose to her feet and motioned for the reporters to follow her.

"Internal…The Cardassians do that to their own people?!"

"Evil sees no race, evil has no race," T'Pera said simply. "Not all Cardassians agree with their government. Of those, not all are content to stand by and do nothing. Brave individuals who are often arrested and charged with treason for crimes as serious as suggesting a more open form of government or that all sentient beings deserve at least some basic civil rights."

"I—" She clenched her teeth to keep the bile down. "What about the Cardassian prisoners?"

"The Pa'cha Accords allow for war crimes tribunals to be conducted by a neutral third party," T'Pera replied. "Under the auspices of the accords, a tribunal has been set up by one of the Klingon Empire's sector governors and run by the former Chief Justice of Andoria. All prisoners taken in this raid will be surrendered to the proper authorities."

"What if they're—" She paused and took a breath. "What if they're found innocent?"

"If they are found innocent, they will be held in a prisoner of war camp located somewhere in the Klingon Empire, which is monitored by several representatives from the Intergalactic Red Cross, Amnesty Interplanetary, and several other neutral aid organizations. We do everything in our power to prevent obscenities like the one we just ended. We refuse to perpetuate them."

"Does international law permit the Klingons to hold prisoners of war if they're not involved in the conflict?"

"The Klingon Empire is a neutral party in this conflict and as such they may inter any belligerent forces that happen to enter their territory without prior permission," T'Pera replied. "The Cardassian Union sent a note of protest to the Grand Chancellor upon announcement of the tribunal's formation stating that such interference could be considered an act of war and demanded the cessation of all trials, reparations, the return of all Cardassian military personnel and civilians currently in Klingon custody, along with the arrest and extradition of anyone involved in the prisoner trials."

"What was the Klingon response?" Marty asked.

"I believe the Grand Chancellor invited them to try their luck," T'Pera said calmly. "Unfortunately, the Cardassian Union chose not to press the issue. When it comes down to it, the main precept of international law is that might makes right. If the Cardassian Union was powerful enough to force the Klingon Empire to concede the point, the law would side with them. They are not, so it does not."

IIIIIIIIII

The lights came on to reveal a smiling silver-haired gentleman sitting at a desk as the opening music played.

"Hello, I'm Tom Taliaferro of the Interstellar News Network, and this is the news. Top story is the so-called midshipman revolt at the Starfleet Academy in which nearly one third of this year's graduating class resigned to join the fight to free Bajor. We have on the scene our own intrepid reporter, Ms. Rie Takanaga. Are you there, Rie?"

"I'm here, Tom." The scene changed to show an Asian woman in a miniskirt and a brown shoulder-length ponytail. "I'm standing here in front of the main building at Starfleet Academy where just hours ago, a large portion of the graduating midshipmen declined their commissions to join Khan's fight to liberate Bajor from the Cardassian Union. The mood is tense and it's clear that opinions are sharply divided among those that chose to stay behind."

"What does the academy staff think of what happened?" Tom asked.

"At this time, the teaching staff is united in their refusal to give any official statements regarding the incident," Rie replied.

"Unofficially?" Tom prompted.

"Unofficially, the instructors seem to be sharply divided between those who either support or are amused by their students' actions and those who do not."

"What about the support staff?"

"Why don't we ask one of them?" Rie suggested with a smile. The camera panned out to show a middle-aged man standing next to the reporter. "Sir, would you mind telling your name to our viewers at home?"

"My name is Boothby," he replied.

"And what is it you do here, Mr. Boothby?"

"I'm the groundskeeper."

"Is that a position you've held for a long time?"

"This is my first year."

"What do you think of the midshipman revolt?"

"I think that everyone has a place in the world. If they felt that their place was with Khan rather than in Starfleet, that's where they should go. If they felt that their place was in Starfleet, Starfleet is where they should remain." He tilted his head. "I'm not one to criticize anyone's decisions on how they want to live their lives."

IIIIIIIIII

The face of the Federation Ambassador to the Cardassian Union was impassive as the Cardassian official screamed at him.

"Be that as it may, we have no connections with the actions of Khan Noonien Singh," the Ambassador interjected when the Cardassian stopped to take another breath.

"No connection, no connection?!" the Cardassian demanded. "Your Starfleet Academy has just sent half your midshipmen to him!"

"An unfortunate situation, but their actions do not represent the official stance of Starfleet or the Federation," the Ambassador replied blandly. "In truth, we regret the situation nearly as much as you do."

"Regret?" the Cardassian snorted. "Regrets are meaningless, as are your platitudes. The Cardassian Union demands that the Federation shows its sincerity by arresting the revolting midshipmen, by sending a Starfleet task-force to clean out the Valo system, and by handing over the bandit Khan and his crew of terrorists."

"The midshipmen have violated no laws in the Federation," the Ambassador said mildly. "Khan and his crew are operating under the auspices of the Bajoran Government in Exile. The Prime Directive forbids us from taking any action against them so long as both of those remain true."

"Inform your government that they are playing a dangerous game, human!" the Cardassian spat. "We have been patient with you for the time being. Should things continue, you will soon learn that our patience is not limitless."

AN: POW camp was also based on real life examples.

Omake for 04: Klingons, Romulans, and Cardassians

"I am under sentence of death by both the Romulans and the Cardassians," Khan agreed. "While there are many in the Federation that would happily send me to either one, the Federation's official stance is that they will not extradite anyone that faces the death penalty and I am too visible for them to hand me off without notice."

"What about the Klingons? Don't you rescue people from their slave camps?

"With Klingons, it's easy. If I hear of a situation in which my services are required in the Klingon Empire, I find whoever is in charge and politely ask them to release the individuals into my custody or to stop whatever they're doing that offends me."

"And when that doesn't work?

"I challenge them to a duel and kill them with my bare hands," Khan replied. "Oddly enough, that seems to have made me a bit of a celebrity in their society."

Omake by nielingage for chapter 04

"Inform your government that they are playing a dangerous game, human!" the Cardassian spat. "We have been patient with you for the time being, soon you will learn that our patience is not limitless."

"I find it interesting that when the Prime Directive forbade the Federation from taking any actions in the issue between the Cardassian and Bajoran governments that you were most pleased by that."

Omake for 04: Psych Test by polychromeknight

"How could I have failed? You will explain yourself, Doctor!"

"Alright," McCoy agreed, having had this conversation before, and probably had many more waiting in the future, it was with a certain weight of tiredness that he explained, "We called you in for a mental health screening..."

"Which I never took! You got interrupted when those other patients arrived!"

"... you were placed in an uncomfortable chair in a high traffic hall while priority emergency cases were rushed through," McCoy continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.

(goes on a bit to describe the parade of horrors that passed by)

(shuddering official then admits that he'd made excuses and left)

"Which is why you failed," McCoy concluded.

"What?!" the official sputtered.

The doctor pierced him with an unfriendly look. "Let me explain it in more detail. Those patients, emergency cases every one of them, were all there due to YOUR actions! If you'd sat there and waited that would have said at least you are capable of acknowledging that your choices have costs. If you'd pitched in to help, that would have said something better - even as an orderly you could have been another set of hands. That you FLED shows you have serious problems facing the results of your actions! THAT is why you failed!" McCoy finished with fervent energy.

The official paled. "So... the emergency..?"

"WAS your mental health test. Your appointment was arranged, knowing when those transports would arrive. And now we're going to have to schedule far more in depth psyche screening to determine what your issue really is. Personally, I think you're just a pampered, spoiled prince who's never realized that it isn't a game he's playing. But that's for the psyche analysis's to delve into. I'm just declaring you unfit for duty."

Omake for 04 in the same vein as the one above or as an addition

by meteoricshipyards

Shortly thereafter, the entire Federation ruling body came down with an extreme case of diarrhea, followed by heavy head colds, burning urination, and finally a rare tropical disease that caused a painful rash and skin lesions. Shortly thereafter, the facility was closed for biological screening and disinfecting. Unfortunately, the new offices on O'Neal 3 soon became infected with fleas followed by the bubonic plague. The Interstellar Institute of Health is investigating...

Tom A.  
Whose grandfather once got a rare tropical disease that they never found the cause for, since he hadn't been out of the U.S. eastern part of the country since WWII, some 40 years before.


	5. House Singh

Disclaimer: They seek him here, they seek him there, those Cardies seek him everywhere. He appears out of nowhere, in a flash he is gone. That damned elusive KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

House Singh

Valo System: 2321

T'Pera was on the bridge when the convoy returned to the Valo system to unload the latest batch of refugees.

"Contact the hospital on Valo Two and inform them that we have one point eight million new patients for them," she ordered.

"Medics on the transport ships have already started transferring patient information," the comms officer said.

"Good, belay my last," T'Pera stated.

"Sensors indicate two Klingon birds of prey and three unfamiliar Orion-built destroyers in orbit around the Valo III," Ops reported.

"Hail them," T'Pera ordered.

The screen changed to show a large Klingon male with an eye-patch and grey hair. "Captain Rynar of the _Bloodspiller_."

"T'Pera, first officer of the _John Brown_ ," she replied. "We have fifty thousand prisoners to remand to your custody and several ships to send back to the Empire to be refitted."

"I have on my ship Fnord, son of Doran, daughter of Khan, and Knurd son of Fnord with orders to commend him to the care of his grandfather, the Great Khan the Peerless," the captain reported. "I also have three more destroyers to add to your fleet."

"Great Khan will be pleased to see his grandson again as well as for the additional ships," T'Pera stated. "As will I."

"Formalities aside, how are you doing, my friend?"

"Quite well," T'Pera stated. "You?"

"Starting to feel my age," Rynar admitted. "I trust your latest raid was successful since you have more ships than you started out with?"

"One cruiser taken, another destroyed with three assault shuttles. Few losses on our side," T'Pera replied. "That is in addition to achieving our objective of liberating the prisoners of an extermination camp."

"How many?"

"Less than two million survivors out of fifteen million taken."

"What did your forces number and what did theirs?" Rynar asked, eager to get as much information about the battle as he could, both for his own sake and to pass on to the leader of his House.

"Close to one hundred thousand guards, five Galor-class cruisers, and eight armed shuttles on their side. Three ships and fifteen thousand marines on ours."

"How did the fight go?"

"We caught the first Galor with its shields down and took it almost completely intact and managed to destroy one other later. I was not on the ship during that action. We are unsure how many Cardassians were killed in the ground action since an unknown number threw down their arms and escaped into the desert. We lacked both the time and the inclination to do more than transport as many as we could into holding areas." She tapped a few keys on the captain's chair. "I am sending you the sensor readings from the ship actions, now."

"I have them," Rynar said moments later. "A magnificent feat."

"Fat garrison troops verses skilled veterans," T'Pera disagreed. "The battle would have been different if we had been unfortunate enough to be faced with the Union's best. How go things in the Empire?"

"Another assassination attempt on Grand Chancellor Azetbur, this one nearly successful," Rynar said.

"I trust the Grand Chancellor is well?" T'Pera asked. The woman had been one of their more powerful silent backers in the fight to restore freedom to the Bajoran people.

"She is. Unfortunately, General Worf was not so fortunate. He died a warrior's death."

"He will be missed."

"He was avenged and will be remembered," Rynar said firmly. "His son, Mogh, has already announced his intention to name his first son after his father."

IIIIIIIIII

Marty and her crew beamed down to the hospital with the last group of rescuees and waited until the activity had died down before stopping one of the orderlies for directions.

"The director's office?" the orderly, a young Bajoran male asked.

"I'm supposed to conduct an interview with them today," Marty explained.

"May I see your PADD?" the Bajoran asked. He took it and tapped out a few commands. "Just follow the directions, shouldn't take more than a couple minutes to get there."

"Thank you," Marty said cheerfully.

The Bajoran waited till the group had left before he stepped up to the nearest comm station. His first call was to the director's office, the second to security. Chances were, the strange people were exactly who they said they were. Still, it never hurt to be safe.

IIIIIIIIII

Fnord did his best to look confident as he stepped off the transporter pad. It had been years since he had seen his grandfather and in that time his mental image of the man had transformed from that of a kindly old man to that of a terrifyingly competent warrior. The news of each one of the man's victories made him fear that only someone as great as Kahless the Unforgettable could ever hope to live up to the expectations everyone seemed to have for him.

An apparently human female stepped forward and gave him a cold smile. "This way, please."

Fnord followed the woman into the heart of the ship to stand before an unmarked door. "Is he in there?"

"He is," the woman agreed, hitting the door chime. "You may enter."

Steeling himself, Fnord walked in and was immediately confronted by the smiling old man he remembered, not the mighty warrior he knew his grandfather to be. In some ways it was a bit disappointing, in many others it was comforting. An odd mix of feelings for a young Klingon to experience, he reflected to himself.

"Fnord, you've gotten so big since I last saw you," Khan said in delight.

"Grandfather, mother has sent me to you so that I may learn the way of the warrior, the ship handler, and the engineer," Fnord stated formally.

"I trust all is well with her?" Khan asked.

"She grows more and more irritated by the fact that you go into battle without her by your side every day, grandfather," Fnord admitted. "I believe she only agreed to let me come here so I could learn enough to take her place in command of the Empire's shipyards so that she may be free to take her place by your side."

Khan's smile widened. "Your father?"

"Father has told me to learn well, to fight with honor, and asks that you come visit so that mother can assure herself that you have managed to survive without her here to watch your back," Fnord replied, starting to feel at ease. "Klag and Grilka are also well."

"Good," Khan said, waving for the young Klingon to have a seat. "So tell me, what do you want to do while you're here?"

IIIIIIIIII

After a short delay, Marty was shown into the Director's office and introduced to a Trill woman wearing a Starfleet captain's uniform.

"I'm Captain Kareel," the woman introduced herself.

"Marty Jackson. Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Captain."

"Not at all," she waved for the reporter to have a seat. "What would you like to know?"

"For starters, why is a Starfleet captain in charge of a Bajoran medical facility?"

"The Surgeon General uses the facilities on Valo Two as a teaching hospital. Think of it as a midshipman cruise for doctors," the captain explained. There was also the unofficial side benefit of exposing young doctors to one of the nastier results of the current official interpretation of the Prime Directive. Starfleet Medical stood firmly behind the liberation movement and were almost to a being followers of the path of Kirk.

"Can you explain to my viewers why that is?"

"It benefits Starfleet because it gives young doctors a chance to get some real-world experience with traumatic injuries, disease, everyday medical problems, treatment of a variety of races, and in too many other ways to count. It benefits the people of the Valo system and the refugees because it increases the number of medical personnel on hand. What we have here is one of the best examples of international cooperation I know of and it really shows Doctor McCoy's genius for finding the most efficient way of transforming young interns into ship's doctors." She laughed. "Trust me, Marty, I'm not saying that because I'm angling for a promotion. I'm saying it because it's true."

IIIIIIIIII

Admiral Nakamura nervously tugged at the hem of her red dress jacket as she prepared to take the stage. The hall was filled with the next year's midshipmen, looking younger and wider-eyed than she remembered her own being a few decades before. The new cadets went silent when the lights over them dimmed until there was only the light above the podium and the only sound breaking the silence was the click of her heels as she marched to her place.

"Good afternoon, snotties! My name is Commodore Nakamura and I own each and every one of you until you quit, wash out, or pass to your second year!" she said with a wide smile, allowing her gaze to sweep over the new cadets. "You're here this summer as a final test to see if you're worthy of admission to the Academy." Her eyes sparkled with suppressed mischief. "I'm here because they beached me for my vocal support of Khan and his quest to liberate the Bajoran people from their Cardassian oppressors." There was an audible intake of breath. "They asked me to resign but quickly changed their minds after I told them that the first thing I'd do after taking off my uniform was to hold a press conference explaining exactly why I left Starfleet and that my plans were to join Khan."

The Commodore's smile dropped, her earlier mood being replaced by one of utter seriousness. "They allowed me to make this speech for two reasons. The first was that I threatened to resign if they didn't. The position they gave me, the adviser of the first year midshipmen, has been responsible for giving the opening address to new cadets since the Academy was founded. I told them that if they were unwilling to let me do my job, I was unwilling to continue as a Starfleet officer. The second reason is that I promised to do my best to talk you out of making a dramatic gesture like the one we saw last week." Her smile returned for a split second. "While would be useful to Khan, you are invaluable to Starfleet if you stay behind. Yes, Starfleet is flawed, yes, it has been led astray, and yes, you would probably find your first few years with Khan far more satisfying than your first few with the fleet. That said, your place is here. They say that change comes from within."

"My first captain, the great James T. Kirk, spent his whole career making a difference, saving untold trillions of lives in the process, working tirelessly to protect the fleet from the machinations of the ignorant uniformed bureaucrats at home. Khan spent thirty years building up one of the largest humanitarian organizations within and without the Federation with Captain Kirk's help and support before leaving to make a more personal difference. If you agree with me, if you stand with Khan, I'm asking you to spend ten, twenty, even thirty years in the fleet to make a difference."

"If you disagree with me, if you think Khan should be imprisoned for his actions or that he's a misguided old man, that Kirk is relic of a time best forgotten, I ask that you too go to the fleet and to keep your minds open, to look at the suffering caused by high minded indifference. I want you to compare your ideals to the harsh reality of their implementation and to decide if any regulation is worth allowing untold numbers of sentients to suffer and die." 

IIIIIIIIII

The lights came on to reveal the smiling visage of Tom Taliaferro sitting at a desk next to Marty Jackson as the opening music played.

"Hello, I'm Tom Taliaferro of the Interstellar News Network, and this is the news." He nodded to his guest. "We are fortunate to have Marty Jackson in our studio as our guest today," the anchor said with a charming smile. "Thank you for taking the time to join us today, Marty."

"Thank you for having me here, Tom."

"So tell me, Marty, you were embedded on the _John Brown_ when they conducted their daring raid on the Cardassian prison camp holding the Bajoran Military Caste. We've all seen your report, but can you give us a better idea of what it was like to be on the ground with the ship's marines?"

"It was the most horrible day of my life, Tom," Marty said honestly. "Over acres of ground lay dead and dying people. You could not see which was which…The living lay with their heads against the corpses and around them moved the awful, ghostly procession of emaciated, aimless people, with nothing to do and with no hope of life, each baring evidence of torture in the form of scars and mutilation, unable to move out of your way, unable to look at the terrible sights around them…Babies had been born there, tiny wizened things that could not live…I saw." The woman blinked away tears. "I saw a mother, driven mad, screaming at a marine, begging him to give her milk for her child, and thrusting the tiny mite into his arms, then stumbled off, crying terribly. He opened the bundle and found the baby had been dead for days. We…we filmed what we saw but we didn't include most of it in the aired report. Copies were presented to the Federation Council, a number of human rights organizations, and the prosecutors at the war crimes tribunal. Tom, Khan told me I didn't want to go along, that I was better off not knowing how bad the universe could be. He was right, but even knowing that, if I could go back in time I'd still chose to accompany him. The universe needs to know, Tom, everyone needs to know how much the Bajorans are suffering under the occupation by the Cardassian Union."

"Do you need a moment before the next question, Marty?" Tom asked sympathetically.

"No, no I'm alright to continue, Tom."

"Did news of what happened at the Academy reach Khan before you returned to Earth, Marty?"

"It did, Tom," Marty agreed. "He said that he welcomes anyone who wishes to join him, but that he would encourage them to stay in Starfleet and try to change things from the inside for as long as they could. He called it the path of Kirk."

"After Captain James T. Kirk?"

"Yes, Tom. Apparently, Kirk was the one who convinced him to try to work within the system in the first place. I think it's one of the reasons Khan named one of their attack ships after him." 

"A fitting tribute to one of the Federation's greatest heroes," Tom said solemnly.

"It's not the only thing Khan's named after crew members from the _Enterprise-A_ ," Marty added. "I know that there's a repair facility named after the late Captain Scott and it's common knowledge that the hospital on Valo Two will be named after the Starfleet Surgeon General, Leonard McCoy, the moment he's distracted by something long enough to keep him from preventing it." She managed a smile. 

IIIIIIIIII

Fnord wasn't in his newly assigned quarters more than five minutes when the door chimed to indicate that he had a visitor.

"Enter," he called out, disengaging the lock. The door opened to admit the ship's first officer. "Aunt T'Pera."

"Fnord," she replied. "I see that you appear to be getting the proper amount of nutrition."

"Mother is quite insistent that all of us eat well," Fnord agreed. Almost to the point of fanaticism. He supposed it was understandable in light of how she'd spent the first years of her life.

"May I sit?"

"Yes, of course." He waved her to take the chair while he made do with the bunk.

"I have several questions I want you to answer," T'Pera stated after she had made herself comfortable. "First of all, is this what you desire? You are more than welcome to stay as long as you like, but if you do not wish to be on this ship I would like to know so that you can be sent to the place you do wish to be."

"There is no place in the universe I would rather be, Aunt T'Pera, nowhere," Fnord said quickly.

"But?" she prompted.

"How can anyone live up to being the grandson of the living legend, Great Khan the Unkillable?" he asked. "Do you know how many titles he has?"

"The Bajorans call him 'the Liberator' and 'the Bringer of Hope and Freedom.' The Andorians call him 'the Seeker of Justice,' the more polite Cardassians call him 'the Bandit King' and 'an Enemy to the Union,' the Romulans call him a 'Danger to the Empire,' the Klingons, as you know, call him 'the Unkillable,' 'the Peerless,' 'the Undefeated,' as well as several other titles," T'Pera listed a few names. "Your mother calls him Lord and father, I call him Great Khan, you call him grandfather. Do you know which of those titles he values the most?" She cocked her head, waiting for the reply.

"Which?" he asked, thinking how great it would be, to be called a Danger to the Romulan Empire.

"Father and grandfather," T'Pera stated. "I once heard a crewman state that he felt fortunate to live in a time that such legends as the Great Khan walk the stars. Your grandfather replied that he was the fortunate one to have such great friends. In the end, Great Khan is just a man and that is all he wishes to be. Let others admire the legend from afar and count yourself fortunate that you have met the man."

"I understand," Fnord said.

"Good. I will grant you three standard days to settle in and to familiarize yourself with the ship regulations, crew roster, and technical manuals I will make available to you," she stated, rising to her feet. "On the fourth day, I will be at your door at zero four hundred ship time. I have no doubt that your parents trained you well, but you are young. You have not lived the requisite amount of time to learn all that you need to know. I intend to rectify that."

IIIIIIIIII

Commodore Nakamura shot the nervous midshipmen a mischief-filled smile as she walked into the classroom. While not as enjoyable as commanding a starship, the Academy was starting to grow on her.

"Welcome to your first day of Tactical Theory," she said brightly. "In the event that one of you doesn't remember who I am or for anyone who missed my speech, my name is Commodore Nakamura. I'm going to begin this lesson by telling you all a little story that dates back to my time as a midshipman under the legendary Captain James T. Kirk." Her smile deepened when every midshipman's eyes filled with eagerness. "Kirk used to like to play cards with us middies, said he was hoping to teach us a vital tactical lesson, but he refused to tell us what it was." She suppressed a laugh.

"We'd wager extra duty for liberty, luxury food items for an enforced diet of emergency rat bars and the like. Thing was, we never seemed to win against him. I was on double shifts for two weeks and eating nothing but bread and water before I figured out that his winning streak was mathematically impossible, took me another three days before I caught him dealing off the bottom of the deck." This laugh she did not suppress and, like music, it filled the classroom. "The most important lesson he ever gave me was how to cheat and to never expect that anyone, no matter who they were, would play fair, because the universe doesn't. He was so proud when I caught him that he gave me two weeks of liberty and a place at his table for the rest of my time on the _Enterprise_." The man had been even prouder, practically glowed when she and the other middies had rigged their own game to clean him out and get revenge. "He told me that he wanted his midshipmen to be paranoid, devious, and ambitious. He said those were all qualities that would serve us well as Starfleet officers. Questions?"

IIIIIIIIII

Solis Adami, First Minister in Exile allowed the tears to come after she left the hospital containing the wizened shell of what had once been the strongest man she'd ever known. His time in the care of their Cardassian occupiers had not been kind to her old friend. She only hoped her planet and people were receiving better treatment.

"Contact Khan," she told her aide, wiping away tears. "Tell him that I would like a meeting at his earliest possible convenience."

"Yes, First Minister."

IIIIIIIIII

The average citizen of the Federation lived in a modest sized apartment, worked twenty-four point two hours a week, enjoyed several leisure activities, considered themselves to be reasonably well educated, and had visited seven point two one planets.

The average citizen watched two point eight hours of holodramas a day, read six novels a year, and thought little about politics outside the time it took to press a button to vote for their chosen representatives, provided their planet was one of the ones that held elections.

The average citizen liked to think they were part of something great, that the Federation was the largest force of good and order in the known universe that it was a shining beacon of justice and freedom, an example for all to look upon. The average citizen did not appreciate having their noses rubbed in the result of their political class's gleeful indifference to the occupation of Bajor and was both horrified and disgusted by the images they saw from the Cardassian extermination camp's liberation, images that had done more to shake off the average citizen's cheerful apathy than even the near destruction of Earth. After all, they'd known Starfleet and brave men like James T. Kirk were around to protect them from things like the V'Ger probe. They were beginning to awaken to the fact that others in the universe were not so lucky.

The average citizen had begun to awaken from their enui and this had provoked a great interest in news which was why a veritable army of reporters to feed that new appetite for news of the Bajoran war of independence arrived with the first group of former Starfleet midshipmen. Time would tell what, if any, lasting effect that would have.

IIIIIIIIII

The First Minister of the Bajoran Government in Exile, Solis Adami, was waiting at the transporter pad to meet Khan when he beamed down to the planet.

"Thank you for coming to meet me on such short notice," she said as he stepped down.

"Thank you for being here to meet me," Khan replied, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Some of my aides think I shouldn't meet people like this," Adami admitted. "They say it lessens the dignity inherent in the office."

"What do you say?"

"I say that if such a small gesture as personally greeting the man who's rescued so many of my fellow Bajorans lessens the dignity of my office, than my office has none to lose," she said cheerfully. "The reason I asked you to come down was that I was hoping you'd be willing to take some time away from your schedule to speak with a friend of mine, one of the people you rescued from the Cardassians."

"Of course," Khan said immediately. "Where is your friend?"

"This way," Adami said, sounding relieved. "His name is Major Yndar. He's the senior surviving Bajoran Officer from the camp."

"Do you know what he would like to speak about?"

"No, just that he wants to see you," the First Minister stated. She took him to a private room in the hospital, took a deep breath to steel her nerves, and entered.

The man on the bed looked awful, like he was on the verge of death despite having enjoyed several weeks of the best medical care available in the sector.

"First Minister," the man said respectfully, trying and failing to raise his head from the pillow.

"Stay down, Major Yndar," she ordered. "We're all friends here and this is an informal meeting."

"Of course," he agreed. "You are Khan?"

"I am," Khan agreed. "What can I do for you, Major?"

"I was hoping you could explain why there were so few Bajorans with your crew," Major Yndar stated. "The only ones I saw were in the medical staff that treated us on the transport ships. I didn't see any in the marines that liberated the camp."

"The only Bajorans in my forces are assigned to system defense at the moment," Khan agreed. "None accompanied us on the raid. The medics you saw were loaned by the hospital to supplement the medical crews on my ships."

"Why?" Yndar demanded with a wet sounding cough.

"Two years is barely enough time to build a competent crewman," Khan explained patiently. "Let alone a senior enlisted or ship's officer. Aside from the very few Military Caste that made the evacuation, the only Bajorans with close to the amount of skill needed are the merchant crews that accompanied the refugees to this system and it was decided that they would be more valuable remaining in the Merchant Marine or as trainers than they would be with me." He chose not to mention the likely actions of Bajoran marines recruited from the refugees upon seeing just how bad conditions in the camp were. He could trust his people to behave themselves. He could not yet trust the Bajorans to do the same.

"Two years?" the Major wheezed, eyes wide in shock. "We were only in that hell for two years?" His cough turned into a sob. "I forgive you for taking so long to get us if you can forgive me the nasty thoughts I had about you. I'm sorry, I'd thought…We'd all believed…Two years!" his voice was incredulous.

"I deeply regret the fact that we could not have arrived sooner than we did," Khan said softly. "The Cardassians were better at hiding your location than we were at finding it."

"Are there other camps like the one you rescued us from?" Yndar demanded, fear gripping his heart at the thought that there were others in the universe suffering like he had.

"I do not believe there are any more extermination camps of the sort you were in that contain large numbers of Bajorans. I know there are several containing Cardassian dissidents."

"We have to rescue them," the man demanded, trying to lever himself out of bed. "It doesn't matter that they're Cardassians, no one deserves—" he dissolved into another coughing fit.

"If I can find them, I shall," Khan promised.

"The doctors tell me that it'll be years before I recover enough to be useful in the war effort," Yndar said, panting at the effort it took to raise his head six inches off the bed. "I think I've figured out a way to prove them wrong, if you two will allow it."

"How?" Khan asked calmly.

"You say that lack of training is the main barrier to having more Bajorans in your forces?" His eyes turned to focus on the First Minister. "Adami, let me reopen the Military Academy here. My body is weak, but my mind is still strong. I beg you, let me use it to serve Bajor."

IIIIIIIIII

T'Pera's face was impassive as her eyes swept over the crowd of eager young midshipmen. Standing at their front was an eager-looking Michelle Singh. With a mental shrug, the part-Vulcan opened her mouth and began to speak, "My name is T'Pera. I have been Great Khan's First Officer for longer than most of you have been alive. I would like to start by thanking all of you for coming here to risk your lives to bring freedom to others. Coming from Starfleet, many of you will find the way we do things to be very strange," she continued. "Everyone on our ships is a volunteer, everyone is welcome to come and go as they please. We do not assign anyone to anything. That said, we will ask some of you to go to specific areas and will tell some of you that you can-not go to others. That is because we lack space, not because you lack ability. Questions?"

"What spots are available?" one of the new midshipmen asked.

"A limited number in the attack ships," T'Pera stated. "Competition to join the crews is fierce and the number of inexperienced people they can absorb is limited. Any of you with medical experience or a desire to study medicine will be asked to spend some time helping out the hospital staff. We just rescued almost two million Bajorans and the hospital is struggling to save them all. We have a shipyard in the Klingon Empire we use to refit any ships we've managed to take or acquire by other means. Engineers will be asked to spend some time there, both because we always need more personnel there and to familiarize themselves with some of the non-Federation tech we use."

"What about command and security track, Ma'am?"

"Many of them will be asked to spend some time in the local system defense force," T'Pera replied. "It is currently comprised of a cadre from our ships and a number of locally recruited Bajorans, the majority of which had no experience at all with starships or military life before they joined at some point in the last two years. Your presence there would do quite a bit to help make them a viable military force and would allow us to make them operational several years earlier than would otherwise be the case."

IIIIIIIIII

Michelle's heart felt like it was about to burst. She didn't know how long she'd been staring at the door, trying to work up the nerve to hit the door chime, trying to work up the nerve to speak with the man she respected above all others.

"Michelle," Khan's voice called out, sounding pleased. "I had hoped to greet you and the others upon your arrival. I apologize that I could not."

"No, it's…Aunt T'Pera was great," Michelle stammered. "We all understand how busy you are."

"She always is," Khan agreed. "What can I do for you, Michelle?"

"I was hoping I could help you with that," Michelle said quickly. "Being busy, I mean, T'Pera said she didn't have any objections if you didn't."

"Didn't have any objections for what?" Khan asked patiently.

"In Starfleet, Admirals have aides to help them keep track of everything. You're practically an Admiral, I mean, you're as busy as one anyway, so I was hoping you'd let me be your aide?" she ended hopefully.

"If you believe your place is as my aide, you are welcome," Khan said with a smile. "I always trust the people I work with to have the best idea of their own desires and capabilities."

"Yes, sir," she said brightly. "To start with, several reporters have asked for a press conference, several more have asked for personal interviews, and about two dozen have asked to come along on our next raid. T'Pera had some ideas on how to deal with them if you'd like to hear them?"

AN: Perhaps I should have titled this chapter 'The Next Generation.'


	6. The Bajorans Strike Back

Disclaimer: The best revenge is . . .

The Bajorans Strike Back

Cardassian Space: 2329

General Yndar, senior officer of the reformed Bajoran military, watched as the captain readied her crew for the coming conflict. Though still only a shadow of his old self, eight years of recovery had done much to give him a measure of the strength he'd had before his time in the camps.

In many ways his recovery reflected that of the small Bajoran military. When he'd been released from the hospital, the military had been nothing more than a small system defense force made up of inexperienced volunteers with only a sprinkling of few military caste survivors such as himself. Thanks to Khan's help, he had built that into a flotilla of two dozen ships and ten thousand ground troops. He was proud of what they had accomplished and had to take great care to avoid being blinded by its flaws. To start with, they were smaller and less experienced than the force that had been crushed by the Cardassian invaders. On the positive side, his people were better equipped and they were dedicated to the point of fanaticism.

They were about to conduct their first operation as an independent military force, the liberation of one hundred thousand Cardassian dissidents from a place very much like the one that had nearly claimed his life. Some in the legislature had argued against his mission, had professed indifference to the fate of any Cardassians regardless of their political affiliation, had claimed the race as a whole bore responsibility for what had happened to their homeland.

He had calmly noted that none of those opposed to the rescue had spent so much as a minute in one of the hells the Cardassians called a labor camp, much less the place that had claimed two years of his life.

Organized opposition had collapsed after that statement.

IIIIIIIIII

The First Minister of the Bajoran Government-in-exile rose from her seat when T'Pera entered her office and walked to the door to meet the other woman.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," she said with a wide smile.

"What may I do for you?" the part-Vulcan replied.

"There is a bill before the legislature to name the new flagship after Khan," the First Minister replied. "A school after yourself, another after Khan, and the new class of shuttles after yourself."

"I see." T'Pera's face was impassive.

"What are your thoughts about that?"

"For myself, I refuse any honor not first given to my captain," T'Pera stated calmly. "My captain refuses most honors offered to himself."

"I assume the rest of the crew has a similar opinion?"

"I believe so," T'Pera agreed.

"I was afraid of that," the First Minister admitted. "It's why I asked you to meet with me."

"Oh?"

"You have done much for the Bajoran people, more than we could hope to repay in a thousand years. The debt weighs heavy on us. Permitting us to make a few small gestures would permit the public to feel that we have at least repaid a small portion of the interest on the principal we owe you."

T'Pera gave a slow nod of her head. "Use the name Singh and tell him that they are named after the people that we have rescued," she offered. "Several of them have chosen to adopt that surname to honor him. Stating that everything is named to commemorate their rescue and to remember those who were not so fortunate." Her lips twitched. "He will not refuse honors offered to other people, especially not those we have saved."

"That solves one problem," the First Minister said brightly. "On to the next. The Legislature is also interested in putting up a statue of him in front of the meeting hall."

IIIIIIIIII

General Yndar stared down at the Cardassian prisoners, his face impassive. He'd thought he'd seen the worst of what the universe had to offer, thought that the hell he'd experienced was the lowest depth the Cardassian Union could sink to.

He'd been disgusted to find out that he was wrong.

"That's the last of them, General," his flag lieutenant reported.

"We have their computer core?"

"We have everything we came here to get, General."

"Signal the fleet to return to Free Bajoran space," Yndar ordered. "When that's done, pipe a feed of me to all ships. Make sure our guests down there can hear every word of it."

"Yes, General." The lieutenant tapped a few keys on his PADD. "The feed will start when you start speaking, sir."

"My name is General Yndar, commander of the Bajoran combined arms and one of a handful of survivors from a place that Cardassians called Camp T-4 but that we called hell," his voice was even. "Many of you wondered why I had our prisoners placed in cargo bay three. There are two reasons: the first is its size; there isn't enough room in the brigs of all our ships combined to hold them. The second is that it can easily be opened to vacuum," his voice hardened. "All I have to do is hit three keys and each one of our prisoners will be vented to space, a fate far kinder than what they deserve."

He paused and everyone heard three beeps, indicating that three keys had been hit. "I have just locked the control pad so that no one, not even I, can commit the atrocity I just described. People, we came as liberators, as followers of the path of Khan. I refuse, I will **die** to prevent us from becoming that which we fight! Our prisoners will be handed over to the proper authorities to face justice, as will anyone who decides to take so-called justice into their own hands. There will be no 'accidents' befalling our prisoners. Meals will be provided in a timely fashion and in full portion and not contaminated in any way. Medical care will be provided to those who need it. The prisoners will be treated with courtesy so long as they make no attempt to attack us – and I know full well that almost none of them are in any condition to look after themselves let alone attack anyone. Our hands must remain clean! That is all."

IIIIIIIIII

Michelle stepped into Khan's ready room and handed the great man a PADD containing the supplementary material for the briefing she was about to give.

"Ambassador Spock extends an invitation for you and anyone you chose to bring to his…" She frowned. "There isn't really a word for it unless you want to switch to Vulcan, sir. It's often described as more than a betrothal, less than a wedding."

"I'm familiar with it," Khan said calmly. "Please tell my old friend that, barring unforeseen circumstances, I would be delighted to attend with the crew of the _John Brown_."

"Yes, sir," she agreed. "Number two on the agenda is a request from the Bajoran Cultural Commission that you stand for a statue. Apparently they held a contest in which school children would suggest subjects for the statue and would then vote to pick which one. The theme was someone that inspires you." She smiled widely. "You received nearly one hundred percent of the vote by write in, sir. The Cultural Commission states that they are willing to change the subject of the statue to someone else, but that they ask that you be the one to explain to the children of Bajor why you didn't like their idea. Should I tell them you'll be down to model for the artist or to crush the hopes of their innocent young children, sir?"

"Tell them that I would be happy to sit for a statue so long as my loyal crew can be worked into it somehow," Khan replied, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Let slip to the artist that I would appreciate it if he could find a prominent place for my first officer, and tell T'Pera that I see her fingerprints all over this."

"Yes, sir," she giggled. "Number three is a request from General Yndar. He'd like us to go over the mission logs for their raid in order to help identify things that can be improved upon. He also states that he found no less than fifteen major mistakes he made and will be disappointed if we can not identify more."

IIIIIIIIII

The now veteran war correspondent, Marty Jackson, put on a somber expression as the holocamera operator's fingers lowered one by one, counting down the seconds before airtime.

"Marty Jackson, reporting from Valo III where I've been fortunate enough to be granted an interview with General Yndar, Supreme Commander of the Bajoran Forces, who's just returned from another daring raid which penetrated deep into Cardassian space." The camera panned out to show the general sitting across from the reporter. "General Yndar, what can you tell us about your latest operation?"

"I can tell you that it was a complete success," Yndar said with a sigh that seemed at odds with his words. "We rescued just over one hundred thousand people, mostly Cardassian though with a fair amount of other races, from the most appalling place I've ever had the misfortune to visit."

"This might be a good place to remind our viewers at home that General Yndar is one of the few survivors of the Cardassian Union's attempt to destroy the Bajoran Military Caste," Marty interjected, mind going back to the first raid she'd reported on. "General, I was with Khan when he liberated your camp. You told me earlier that this one was worse in some ways. Do you mind explaining why?"

"It was a research facility dedicated to finding out more efficient ways of committing murder and more effective ways of inflicting pain," he explained. "We have a…" The general frowned. "Prisoner's the wrong word, as a prisoner is not so constrained. A man who was forced to work in one of the facilities in order to keep his family alive. His job was to maintain the monitoring equipment in the chemical weapon facility."

Yndar took a deep breath. "In this facility, they would experiment with new compositions of gas by testing its effectiveness on groups of innocent people. He told me that he could always tell when a group was comprised of friends or family by the way they acted. Strangers would separate and huddle in the corners, families would gather in the center and try to comfort each other as they died."

The general closed his eyes. "He talked for eight hours, he insisted on giving every detail, told me he wanted everyone to know what had happened. Since then he's tried to take his own life on no fewer than four occasions. He says that his part of what happened merits a thousand deaths and insists that sentence should be carried out immediately."

IIIIIIIIII

The lights came on to reveal the smiling visage of Tom Taliaferro sitting at a desk next to a middle-aged human male as the opening music played.

"Hello, I'm Tom Taliaferro of the Interstellar News Network, and this is the news." He picked up and straightened a stack of paper. "Our guest tonight is the junior representative from the Peruses colony, Mister F.J. Pearson. Let me just start by thanking you for taking the time to speak with us, Mr. Pearson."

"Thanks for having me, Tom," the man said with a charming smile. "And please, call me F.J."

"F.J., you recently gave a speech about the situation in Cardassian space and their demands that Khan be arrested and extradited to face trial for crimes against the Union. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but you urged your fellow representatives to ignore the Cardassians, yet you have also spoken on many occasions against the Federation becoming involved in the Bajoran war of independence. Could you explain this seeming contradiction to our viewers?"

"I'd be delighted to, Tom," the representative agreed. "For one thing, I disagree with Khan's view of the Federation. The refusal to start a war with the Cardassian Union over the occupation of Bajor was the right one. The Federation isn't harmed by the occupation, nor would it be benefiting should Bajor regain her independence. The actions of the Cardassian Union to the people of Bajor are barbaric, they disgust me, there are not words foul enough to describe what I think of them, but at the same time, those actions do not justify a war in which tens of thousands on each side would be killed in each and every clash of the opposing forces.

"I recognize the fact that there is nothing more noble than to risk your life to save or to bring freedom to another, I don't think there is anyone in Starfleet that isn't willing to make the ultimate sacrifice if circumstances should require that of them, but you must understand that the Federation's first responsibility must be to ensure the safety and welfare of its people. To that end, war with a polity as powerful as the Cardassian Union is against the very purpose I was elected for, the protection of our citizens."

"So you're saying that the Bajoran people aren't worth it?" Tom asked bluntly.

"One statement that's often used in these circumstances is the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," F.J. countered. "I encourage everyone to give support to the Bajoran people, I think every right minded citizen should donate a few credits a month for medical supplies or even new ships to help in their fight. I salute every Starfleet officer who resigns to fight by Khan's side, but I will fight with every fiber of my being to keep the Federation as a whole from doing the same. It may sound cold hearted, Tom, it may sound evil, but as a representative my first responsibility is the safety and prosperity of my constituents, not to those poor unfortunates living under the boot of the Cardassian military."

"So how does this square with your argument against considering the extradition request?"

"Khan is a Federation citizen who has broken no Federation laws and who has complied with all relevant extra-national laws. As that is true, their request was completely without merit," F.J. stated. "Even if that weren't true, Khan's ships are acting under the authority of the Bajoran government-in-exile. As such, Federation law forbids Starfleet from interfering with them." He smiled coldly. "The Cardassian Ambassador was not happy when that was pointed out to him."

"I imagine not," Tom snorted.

"I'd also like to point out the fact that they were quite happy with Federation law when it meant the Federation would not interfere with their criminal invasion and occupation of Bajor."

"Since you brought it up, let's talk about the Prime Directive," Tom suggested. "Khan has stated on numerous occasions that it could be used by Starfleet as an excuse to commit what amounts to negligent genocide. How do you respond to that allegation?"

"I would hope that no Starfleet captain would be craven enough to use it as an excuse to stand by and watch the extinction of a species, sentient or otherwise, when they had the ability to prevent it," the representative replied. "There is a reason starship captains are given so much power and responsibility."

IIIIIIIIII

Informed by the machines that his patient was coming out of her medically induced coma, the doctor was at her side when she began to awake.

"Where am I?" the Cardassian asked. She opened her eyes and froze when she saw the Bajoran smiling down at her.

"The Leonard McCoy Medical Center," the doctor replied. "How do you feel?"

"You're Bajoran," she accused. "How…Why am I here?"

"The Bajoran military was responsible for the operation that rescued you from the prison camp. All survivors were brought here for treatment. I'm afraid…I'm afraid we've had quite a bit of experience dealing with similar cases over the years."

"But I'm Cardassian," the woman, girl really, protested. "It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?"

"Why do you help us, the people responsible for the destruction of your world and the enslavement of your people?" the Cardassian asked, confusion dripping from every syllable.

"Why do we help? As Great Khan once said that evil has no race," the Bajoran explained. "Neither does good. We help because we follow the paths of Khan, McCoy, Spock, Scott, and Kirk. Most of all, we help you because it is the right thing to do."

"Tell me about these paths," the Cardassian begged.

IIIIIIIIII

T'Pera was on the bridge when the _John Brown_ came out of warp just outside Vulcan's defensive perimeter.

"We are being hailed," the comms officer announced.

"On screen," T'Pera ordered.

A Vulcan female who bore a striking resemblance to the _John Brown's_ first officer appeared on the screen. "I am Captain T'Pol of the Vulcan Defense Force Ship _D'Kyr_. Please identify yourselves and state your intentions."

"I am First Officer T'Pera of the Bajoran privateer _John Brown_. We have come to attend Ambassador Spock's bonding ceremony."

"Your ship is commanded by Khan Noonien Singh?" Captain T'Pol asked.

"It is," T'Pera agreed.

"I am transmitting course and docking instructions now," Captain T'Pol announced. "Please be advised that your ship will be met by agents of the V'Shar on your arrival."

"May I ask why?"

"I believe they wish to advise you of several credible threats to your captain's life," Captain T'Pol replied. "If it puts your mind at ease, I can state for the record that your ship and its crew have been granted safe passage into and out of Vulcan space."

"It does, thank you."

IIIIIIIIII

The wedding ceremony was typically Vulcan; not even the presence of Khan's scruffy-looking crew was enough to inject a note of excitement into the affair. The reception afterwards, on the other hand, was anything but. The respect Spock had earned in his years in service to the Federation, first as a Starfleet officer and later as a member of the Diplomatic Corps, cut across ideological lines and political affiliation. So universal was it and so varied the crowd that a few verbal clashes were unavoidable.

Khan stifled a grin as the enraged Andorian he was conversing with turned a deeper shade of purple. He'd forgotten how enjoyable a good debate could be.

"Lt. Commander Sharas," Spock's voice was like a bucket of water, extinguishing the Andorian's rage. "Allow me to again exoress thanks to you and your ship's company for your presence today."

"It was an honor to have been invited," the Andorian replied.

"The honor is mine," Spock said smoothly. "I remember how difficult functions like this sometimes were when I was in active service. Now, if you would be so kind as to allow me to commandeer my old friend Khan here, I believe that we have some catching up to do."

"Of course, Ambassador," the Andorian agreed.

Spock looked at his friend and raised a slow eyebrow.

"Ah, you are correct," Khan admitted. "This is neither the time nor the place to engage in discussions of that nature. Please forgive me for disrupting your nuptials."

"Your disapproval of several Federation policies is well known, Noonien. If he was not prepared for the consequences of a conversation with you, he should not have engaged you in one. The reason I interrupted was to prevent his challenging you to a duel, something I do not believe would be in his or your best interests."

"True," Khan agreed. "However, it is also true that I did not have to escalate things to the point it reached. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me, I should not have."

"Oh? Has your opinion of the Federation worsened then?"

"My friend, every year the Federation seems to become worse and worse. It disgusts me," Khan said sadly. "It seems that every new class Star-Fleet Academy graduates is softer and less willing to take risks than the one before it."

One of the uniformed officers in attendance, a young lieutenant, overheard and took exception to Khan's blanket statement condemning Starfleet's officer corps and the Academy that trained them.

"I don't know that I agree with that statement," the officer interjected. "Please excuse the interruption, but that wasn't a statement I was willing to let go unchallenged."

"Please elaborate," Spock commanded.

"Every one of the senior officers and enlisted seem to talk about how things were different in their day," the lieutenant stated. "Several people saying something doesn't make it right, it just makes it something a lot of people say. Starfleet gets better and more professional every generation. I would hope that trend continues and that I can say with pride that the new officers I get if and when I make captain will be better trained than I am now."

"What of the Prime Directive?" Khan asked. "It stands as the greatest example of what I see as the corruption of Starfleet."

"What of it?" the young officer asked.

"Please tell me the purpose of the Prime Directive, Lieutenant?" Khan demanded.

"To protect less developed races from exploitation and cultural contamination," the man, boy really, recited, giving the answer he'd been taught at the Academy.

"Ah, if that's the case, please explain to me how permitting an intelligent race to go extinct protects it?" Khan asked intently.

"I… I…" the officer stammered, trying to think up a reasonable response.

"I am waiting," Khan persisted. "Your argument is that it is better to permit a race of sentient creatures to die through inaction than it is to save them and risk 'contaminating' their native culture. Why?" Khan shook his head sadly when an answer failed to materialize. "You see, Spock, this is what I was speaking to you of. They teach their midshipmen to parrot their indoctrination, not to think".

"It's because I do think that I believe the Prime Directive is a good idea," the lieutenant interjected. "If all Starfleet officers were unthinking automatons, the worst case scenario you've mentioned would be reason enough to do away with the Prime Directive. We are not, we are perfectly capable of setting regulations aside when the situation demands it and, speaking for myself, I will if the alternative is the death of a world."

"If every officer thought the same as you say you do, I could see myself agreeing," Khan replied. "Is your interpretation taught at the Academy?"

"Officially, no," the young officer admitted. "We are, however, taught that Starfleet expects its officers to use their judgment at all times and to be prepared to face the consequences if our superiors disagree after the fact. Furthermore, I…" he trailed off when he noticed one of his superiors giving him the eye. "I'm afraid I need to end things there. It seems my presence is required elsewhere."

"Of course," Spock agreed. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Lieutenant."

"Yes," Khan agreed, cracking a smile. "It was quite enjoyable."

"Is it just me, or do they look younger every year?" Khan asked after the officer had left.

"The alternative is that we get older every year," Spock replied.

"Unthinkable, we're both as spry as we were half a century ago." Khan laughed. "What did you think of the young man, Spock?" 

"In many ways, he reminds me of Jim," Spock mused.

"Him?"

"He was stabbed through the heart by a Nausicaan in a bar brawl over a rigged dom-jot game two years ago," Spock stated. "I believe he was involved in rigging the game."

"That does sound like something Kirk would have done," Khan laughed. "Minus getting stabbed through the heart."

"True," Spock agreed. "Our young friend also served with your friend Admiral Nakamura's son. They both speak well of him."

"Admiral?"

"One of the representatives from Peruses made his vote on another measure contingent upon her promotion," Spock explained.

"Good." The two men regarded each other in silence for a few moments. "Perhaps I was a bit too harsh," Khan admitted. "One often forgets what it was like to be young. I know I forget how set in my ways I've become as I've gotten older."

"We all have our parts to play. I believe your words may have helped him play his," Spock said neutrally.

"Oh?"

"If he is one of Nakamura's sleepers, he has just been given the gift of being observed in a public argument with you. If he is not, perhaps your words have helped him form a more nuanced view of the Prime Directive."

"True," Khan sighed. "Looking back on what was said, I do not find much fault in his argument about applying judgment. Thank you for helping me achieve clarity, my friend."

"Thank you for your presence. There are not many of us left from the old days."

"Fewer and fewer every year," Khan agreed. "Live long, my friend, I have outlived too many."

AN: The parts about the chemical weapon research facilities were also taken from real-world examples.

Dedicated to the memory of Larry Huss


	7. The Enemy of My Enemy

Disclaimer: Physical security is more a social construct than a reality.

The Enemy of My Enemy

Valo System: 2368

Khan smiled when his first officer walked into his quarters and made herself comfortable on his favorite chair. "Do you have anything so time sensitive that you couldn't spare an hour or two to take a nap before seeing me?" he asked. 

"I do not, nor was the journey from Romulus so tiring that I needed one," T'Pera stated. "Unless you were attempting to comment on my age, in which case I would like to point out the fact that it is lower than your own by several decades."

"Alright," he agreed, grin broadening for a moment. "Just don't push yourself too hard. As you've just pointed out, I'm getting on in years and I'd be lost without you at my side."

"Noted. Ambassador Spock appreciates the offer but would like to keep things both non-violent and free of outside interference for as long as possible." A spark of amusement appeared in her eyes. "He also made a rather generous offer to me if I was willing to remain behind and join his efforts. I declined, but did accept two dozen Romulan recruits for the military academy."

"How many are Tal Shiar?"

"All but six. The Ambassador suggested that we might be able to find a use for them since he did not."

"Do we?"

"Possibly, several of their cover identities have useful skills. If nothing else, we could use them as instructors."

IIIIIIIIII

Kuvok sat in the waiting area of his nominal superior's office wondering why the Head of Consular Affairs at the Federation Embassy to the Cardassian union wished to speak with one of the junior political officers. He did not have to wait long.

"Kavok," the man said, poking his head out. "So good of you to agree to meet with me on such short notice."

"I am attached to your office at the moment, sir, thus any orders for my presence are valid," the Vulcan said neutrally.

"Of course, please, come in," he said, waving the junior man into his office. "Have a seat."

Kuvok noted that the other man's seat was raised a few centimeters above his own, allowing him to loom above his guests.

"You may be wondering why I called you in here today, Kavok," the head of consular affairs began.

"I had assumed it was to discuss the trade delegation," the Vulcan replied. "It is the reason I was loaned to your office."

"Officially," the man agreed, looking smug.

"Sir?" Kuvok sincerely hoped the other man would get to the point and stop wasting so much of his time. It was an unfortunate aspect of diplomatic service that politically connections were often more reliable at getting promotions than ability. The only advantage he could see in the system was that it kept them on the cocktail circuit and away from anywhere important, minimizing the damage they often caused with their 'brilliant' ideas.

"You've heard the rumors about me?" Many of the junior embassy staff was of the opinion that the man was the Federation's chief intelligence officer in the region.

"I have, sir." Kuvok also knew that those rumors were completely false. He wondered if they'd been started by someone who'd met the man before him and concluded that his whole facade must have been an act as they'd refused to believe that anyone could be so venal and moronic.

"Good. I had you assigned to me because of one of your contacts in the Cardassian government. I need you to carry a message to them and then to act as my liaison to… well, the people they introduce you to after that." He licked his lips. "This is a volunteer mission. It carries a high degree of risk and there will be no records that you were ever part of it. If it succeeds, you go back to your normal life and you forget you ever had anything to do with this. If it fails or worse, becomes public, the Federation and I will state that we had no knowledge of your actions. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," he agreed, wondering what the man was getting to. "I understand."

"Good man." The Vulcan listened, outwardly impassive as his superior explained his plan. "Thoughts?"

"My first thought is that your plan seems to violate a number of Federation laws and Diplomatic Corps regulations," Kuvok answered calmly.

"I told you this would be different," the other man replied. "I'm afraid that it's too late to back out now."

"I see."

"Did not Ambassador Spock say that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one?"

"He did," Kuvok said neutrally.

"Logically, the sacrifice of one or even a thousand is justified if it benefits many more," the man said passionately. "The only reason I would even consider asking you to do this is because it is needed to preserve the Federation."

"Your logic seems to be without flaw if one bases their analysis on your knowledge and understanding of Ambassador Spock's famous words," the Vulcan stated neutrally. "Please allow me two days to consider your arguments."

"Granted, just don't say a word to anyone not cleared to know about this."

"I assure you, sir, I will not say a word to anyone about this unless I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are cleared for the information you have just shared." The Vulcan tilted his head. "If I do this, I have one condition."

"And that is?"

"My wife will return to Federation space before I speak with my contacts in the Cardassian government. As you say, this mission has the potential to be quite dangerous. It would be logical to remove her from the area beforehand to a place of safety."

"Afraid she might be used against you?"

"The individuals you wish me to get into contact with have been known to use threats against family members to gain advantage in the past, sir," Kuvok pointed out calmly.

"You're right," the man conceded. "Damn fool idea to have dependents along here anyway. You can send your wife away beforehand, but not one word to her about why."

"Not one word to anyone not already cleared to know," the Vulcan agreed. "She understands that I must sometimes act or have her act without telling her why."

IIIIIIIIII

Gul Boheeka tried to keep himself from showing too much distaste as the operative from the Obsidian Order swept into his office. She was a pretty thing, he thought to himself, one that would have been well worth taking a shot at if he didn't know what she was and how ugly they all were on the inside.

"What can the military do for the Order?"

"I require all defectives on this list to be loaded into the cargo ship you have docked," the woman said calmly. "That ship will then be placed under my command."

"What?" Gul Boheeka couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why?"

"We've received intelligence that the Pirate Khan is contemplating a raid on this facility," she said simply. "I refuse to permit him to succeed."

"But—"

"You will note in your log that this is a routine transfer," she ordered. "You will not speak of this to anyone else. Is that understood?"

"It is," he said sourly, pulling up the needed systems on his comm and imputing the orders directly.

"Is it done?" she asked.

"It is," he agreed.

"Call in your second in command."

Gul Boheeka hit a button on his desk and the door opened a few minutes later to admit another Cardassian.

"Glinn Voreem," the Gul introduced his second in command.

The woman turned to address the new man. "As of this moment your commander is in protective custody. He is to be placed in solitary confinement and no one is to speak to him or listen to a word he says. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Glinn Voreem agreed, eyes filled with confusion.

"Rest assured that your commander's loyalty to the Union is not being questioned at this time," she continued. "So long as my orders to be silent are followed, that will not change."

"I understand," Glinn Voreem stated.

A smile appeared on her face as she turned to the base commander. "It may interest you to know that a fleet of no less than two dozen capital ships from the Third Order along with their attached support units will be arriving soon to engage in routine maneuvers." She leaned in to whisper into the man's ear, "A complete coincidence and not one that has anything to do with our previous discussion, I assure you." 

The corner of Gul Boheeka's mouth twitched up.

"The objective of their exercise is to practice making undetected approaches to potentially hostile planets and they have been ordered not to have any contact with local forces unless detected and hailed," she continued. The woman turned to Glinn Voreem. "I will leave a copy of the frequencies they will be monitoring for you to use in case there happens to be some sort of emergency."

"I understand," the Glinn stated.

"But only if there is an emergency," her voice hardened. "They are to be used for no other reason and you are not to share the fact that you have them with anyone."

"I understand," he repeated.

"For your sake, I hope that you do."

IIIIIIIIII

The head of consular affairs did not rise from his chair when Kuvok entered his office in favor of giving the Vulcan a curt nod.

"Does the fact that your wife was on the last transport to the Federation mean that you've decided to do the right thing, Kavok?"

"It does, sir," Kuvok agreed. "I want to assure you that there was no chance that I would not have done what was best for the Federation, I needed a bit of time to confirm what it was and to remove my spouse from the immediate area."

"Good man," his nominal superior said with a grin. "Never doubted that for a moment." He waved his subordinate forward. "Have a seat, this briefing is going to take a while."

"Yes, sir."

IIIIIIIIII

Khan smiled warmly when the young Cardassian woman entered his quarters, always happy to renew the acquaintance of one of his many friends.

"Here to report a successful reconnaissance, sir," she reported.

"I understand you chose to exfiltrate by hijacking a freighter and that you decided to bring several prisoners along with you," Khan prompted.

"I understand that it endangers the raid, sir, but I couldn't leave them behind," she said, shamefaced. "I accept any punishment you think appropriate."

"The day I punish a friend for rescuing people is the day everything the Cardassian government says about me becomes true. I'm only asking why," he said gently.

"While… while conducting my investigation, I found that several prisoners were scheduled to be executed before we could arrive to prevent it and that several more were to be given 'enhanced interrogation.' Sir, five of those to be killed were in my student group and one of the ones that was to be interrogated is my younger sister. I… I couldn't leave them behind, not even if it meant risking the others. I'm sorry."

"For what?" Khan laughed. "I couldn't have done any differently in your place. I asked why because I was curious. I asked you to meet so that I could personally commend you for the job you did."

"Thank you, sir."

"How are your sister and friends?"

"Recovering, sir," she replied. "Recovering and eager to get back into the fight for Cardassia's freedom."

IIIIIIIIII

Kuvok was amused at the fact that the head of consular affairs had insisted he delay making contact with his Cardassian contacts until after "the great man" had evacuated to the Federation. Insisting that the information in his head was far too valuable to risk in case of a double-cross. One of the problems of dealing with amateurs and armchair experts was that too often they lost their nerve when things switched from fantasy to reality. One advantage to the man's flight was that he wouldn't be around to sour things with his incompetence.

IIIIIIIIII

The Bajoran flotilla exited into normal space two astronomical units from their target, making no effort to hide their approach.

"Sensors report that we're alone, General," reported the tactical officer, a Bajoran too young to know any home other than the Valo system.

"Good," Yndar stated.

"We're being hailed on a Cardassian military frequency, sir," the comms officer said with a grin. "It seems that the man in charge down there, a Glinn Voreem, is under the impression that there is a large force of Cardassian ships waiting to ambush us."

"You're up, Mr. Singh," General Yndar said with a grin. "Do a good job and you can switch back to your regular uniform as soon as you get the bastard off the line."

"Thank you, sir," a young Cardassian wearing a black Union Military uniform said, flashing the man a grin. "They won't suspect a thing."

"When you're ready," the comms officer stated.

"Now," Singh ordered, face going impassive. "This is Gul Tain. I want you to surrender to the pirates and appear to cooperate to lull them into a false sense of security while my ships approach." He allowed himself a cold smile. "If we are lucky, we'll be able to catch them with their shields down to transport the defectives off planet."

"But, sir—"

"I do not require your council, Glinn Voreem, only your obedience. Is that understood?"

"It is, Gul Tain."

"Good. Do not attempt to contact me again. I refuse to chance early detection. End transmission."

IIIIIIIIII

The Vulcan was more than a bit amused to note how much attention security paid her when she got off the transport ship. Much quicker on the ball than she'd have expected from a similar facility in the Federation. Then again, the people running this facility were under much more immediate threats than their counterparts in the more settled sections of the sector. 

"Your papers seem to be in order," the automated customs station announced. "Please follow the arrows to exit the facility."

The Vulcan complied with the instructions, wondering idly if they would make the arrest at the spaceport or if they would wait in hopes that she would lead them to other suspicious individuals.

"That answers that question," she said to herself as the blast doors came down, trapping her in an isolated corridor. The woman carefully raised her hands and put them on her head as a squad of armed Bajorans made a dynamic entry.

"Do not move!" the squad leader commanded. "You are being detained on suspicion of espionage. It should be advised that you are not required to speak, but that anything you say or do may be used against you in a court. You will not be mistreated. You will be given a through medical exam and, if necessary, treatment for any injuries or ailments you might have. You will be given access to council if it is decided that charges are to be leveled against you. Do you understand?"

"I do," she agreed.

"Do you have any dietary or medical requirements beyond those normal for your race?"

"I do not," she stated. "Might I ask what about my documents prompted this response?"

"You may not," the squad leader replied, snapping a pair of restraints on her wrists.

"In that case, I would like to request that my interrogation be started without delay. Some of the information I would like to share may be time sensitive."

"What?" The squad leader gave her an odd look.

"I have come to warn about a possible attempt on Khan's life." She sighed. "I will not resist and I will cooperate so long as my interrogator is of sufficient seniority to be sure that my warning reaches the proper people in time."

Efficient, the Vulcan thought to herself when she saw how quickly things were moving. Within minutes of being detained, she was in a secure room with a major from the Free Bajoran Directorate of Counter-Intelligence who spoke to her just long enough to confirm that she wasn't a crackpot before passing her along to someone more senior. Not an hour later, she was hustled into another windowless room for a meeting with the great man himself.

"My name is Asil, Federation Office of Professional Responsibility," the Vulcan introduced herself. "I apologize for the ruse with my paperwork; it was not directed at you or your forces. May I ask how you caught on so quickly?"

"Perhaps at a later time," Khan said, his grin widening. "Until then, please tell me about the reason you came here?"

"We have discovered a conspiracy within the Federation to betray you to the Cardassian Union," she stated. "I would like your permission to allow the plan to go forward so that I can have the opportunity to identify more of the plotters."

"Tell me more about this plan," Khan requested.

IIIIIIIIII

Kuvok had ignored the consular officer's suggestion as to which of his contacts he should approach. Granted, the man reported the contents of every conversation he had to the Union's intelligence services, but who didn't in Cardassian society? No, the most efficient contact to use in the time available was an appointment secretary in the Cultural Affairs Department.

"What do you want at this time of night?" the bleary-eyed secretary answered his comm.

"I want a to discuss a matter vital to the security of the Cardassian Union," Kuvok stated calmly. "I will be at my current location for another planetary hour." He cut the connection and settled down to wait. The Cardassian arrived in fifteen minutes.

"What is it?" the appointment secretary asked sourly, glaring at the Vulcan diplomat. "This had better not be some kind of joke."

Kuvok raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes," the Cardassian sneered. "Vulcans never joke. Get on with it."

"One moment." Kuvok activated a device to prevent electronic eavesdropping.

"What's that?"

"Before we begin, I want to be sure you understand that I am not here in my official capacity as third political officer," the Vulcan said calmly, ignoring the question. "I also know that you are not merely a secretary, though I am unsure of your exact rank."

"Why are you here?" the fat Cardassian's eyes narrowed.

"Khan. He has been a problem to the Federation since he came to this universe and to the Cardassian Union since the occupation of Bajor. I represent a number of people in the Federation government that believe it is time that problem was removed."

"Finally," the Cardassian sighed, having wondered more than once just how long the real powers behind the Federation would drag their feet. "What do you want in return?"

"We can discuss that after we discuss my terms," Kuvok stated calmly.

"Agreed."

"My first condition is that he is to be taken alive," the Vulcan replied. "Dead he becomes a martyr, alive he is the source of the information we require to purge the Fleet of his agents."

"The Federation believes that Star-Fleet is disloyal?" the Cardassian blurted, shocked by how candid the Vulcan was being.

"The Federation knows that an unfortunate number of officers are of questionable loyalty. It is not sure of the full extent of the officer corps' treason. We believe that the only one who is aware of that fact is Khan, which is why we need you to take him alive," the Vulcan agreed. "To accomplish this, I am prepared to feed you information gleaned from the agents we have managed to place close to him. In return, once he is captured, you will permit me to direct your interrogators to force him to reveal his agents in star-fleet and the Federation government."

"I take it that's one of the reasons he hasn't been dealt with before now?"

"That is a logical conclusion," Kuvok admitted.

"Agreed, anything else?"

"His crew will not be harmed until after I have removed my agents, nor will they or Khan be put to death until after I have purged the officer corps," the Vulcan said firmly. "The risk is too great that several ships will mutiny and attack the Cardassian Union if he or his crew meet their well deserved ends before I am ready to deal with them. That action could cause a war between the Federation and the Union, which is precisely what we are trying to prevent."

"Agreed." The Cardassian smiled. "Why now?"

"One can logically assume that he was considered useful in keeping you distracted by some factions in the Federation," the Vulcan stated blandly. "One can further infer that other elements believe that his usefulness has been outweighed by the instability he brings to the Federation. Based on the second assumption, logic dictates that he and his confederates be removed for the good of the Federation. In the words of a nominal superior; The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one."

The Cardassian snorted. "I've agreed to your terms, now what do you want?"

"We know that a number of Federation personnel have been taken prisoner by the Cardassian union during the many border incidents perpetrated by so-called rogue elements of the fleet, who were not repatriated to the Federation."

"You want them back?" he asked, not bothering to deny the allegation.

"I do," the Vulcan agreed. "Including the individuals you replaced with surgically altered agents of the Obsidian Order, Military Intelligence, or any other organization."

"I see." The Cardassian tilted his head. "Aren't you worried their return will be used to inflame the public?"

"It would be safe for one in your position to assume that those who will cause problems will not return to the Federation," the Vulcan said simply.

"One or two of them are important to one of the real powers in the Federation," the Cardassian said in sudden understanding. "You're demanding we hand over all of them so you don't have to tell us who you really want."

"That is a logical conclusion based on the facts available to you," the Vulcan conceded. "I of course can neither confirm nor deny."

"What'll happen to the rest of them?" the Cardassian asked, curious to hear more about how things were really done in the Federation.

"That decision will be made by those above my level of responsibility," the Vulcan replied. "If I were to again place myself in your position. I would speculate that those without further value will be disposed of and those with value will be used in some way."

IIIIIIIIII

Dukat scowled in annoyance as he listened to the summons from the Detapa Council. Who were those powerless fools to demand his presence, to give orders to a Gul? A briefing on the Bajoran situation, it'd be comical if not for the fact that he'd heard rumors about a possible withdrawal. To think that he'd be unfortunate enough to live in a time when the Central Command was dominated by cowards and the empty suits on the Council got delusions of relevance.

He hit the comms button to connect with his second in command. "Cut rations and raise work hours two days after I leave and return them to their present level two days before my scheduled return."

"Yes, sir."

Perhaps that would teach the ridge-nosed rats how fortunate they were to have an enlightened ruler such as himself. He didn't have high else seemed to make the bastards properly grateful.

IIIIIIIIII

Khan was waiting at the dock when General Yndar's flotilla returned in triumph. "Welcome back my friends!" he said happily as the first crewmen disembarked.

"Great Khan," the NCO in charge, a Vulcan female, said respectfully. "The General invites you to his quarters for a drink if you are able to spare a few minutes."

"Of course," Khan agreed immediately. "Tu'Vul, right?"

"Yes, sir," she agreed.

"Wonderful job you did in the assault on Sarlac Six," Khan continued. "We'd never have been able to get everyone out in time if you hadn't managed to get the transporters on the captured freighter working."

"Thank you, sir, one tries to be useful," she said, leading him through the ship. They stopped in front of an unmarked door and Tu'Vul hit the chime.

"Enter," the general's voice replied.

"Marvelous work, my friend," Khan said with a wide smile. "Absolutely superb. An operation without a single loss on our side is something to be proud of."

"It's better than that," Yndar said with a matching grin.

"Oh?"

"We took them without firing a shot," General Yndar stated proudly. "The next supply ship will arrive to find the base empty. We rescued its prisoners, we imprisoned its personnel, and we looted everything that we could remove without the use of explosives." Well, aside from a few cutting charges but they were so small that they hardly counted.

"It is always better when no one is harmed on either side," Khan agreed.

"A crowning achievement before I return to the academy and semi-retirement," Yndar added. "Let the next generation take their place at the forefront of the struggle."

"You might wish to hold off on that until after you've heard what our next target will be," Khan said, eyes filled with amusement.

"My time has passed, Noonien, there's only one—" Yndar cut off, eyes widening in shock. "Really?"

IIIIIIIIII

Kuvok stared at his contact for several minutes, trying to think of the best way to approach the matter at hand.

"What?" the Cardassian demanded.

"The deal was that you would return everyone. You have not," Kuvok stated.

"According to the records, we've had two hundred die since the prisoner exchanges. We can't be blamed for that," the Cardassian snapped.

"We are willing to continue the operation. We are not willing to commit the same level of resources," Kuvok said blandly. "At the very least, I will require a large amount of latinum and several ships."

"That wasn't the deal," the Cardassian protested.

"The deal was that you would return everyone. You did not." Kuvok's face was impassive.

"One of the people you wanted is in the missing two hundred," the Cardassian sighed.

"That is a reasonable conclusion," Kuvok conceded. "If true, that hypothetical individual was connected to someone who would have provided the material you will need to make up."

"And none of what you will require has anything to do with our plan to rid the universe of that meddling Khan," the Cardassian said sourly.

"I do not know, but that is a reasonable deduction. All decisions were made at a level above my own."

"Give me a list of what you need and I'll pass it along to one of our decision makers," the Cardassian said.

"This is the minimum," Kuvok said, passing over a chip. "I was instructed to demand an extra ten percent as a penalty if your superiors do not agree within the next forty-eight standard hours."

"Wonderful," the Cardassian sighed.

"If it would be easier, I am sure I could persuade my superiors to accept a trade of service in lieu of material for at least part of this. Know that I personally do not wish to see this deal fall through and that I am willing to do much to see that it does not, even aid you in your negotiations."

"What sort of trade?"

"You employ a gardener in your Embassy on Romulus named…"

IIIIIIIIII

The Vulcan's mind was calm when a squad of armed guards arrived at the quarters she'd been assigned, to guide her to another meeting. She'd gone through the same routine at least a dozen times since speaking with Khan. It all seemed rather inefficient to her. Why couldn't they just listen to the recordings of her first session? Was it an exercise to see if her story would change or was it a bit of social posturing? That a personal briefing from her was something the local figures could use to show their importance to their colleagues? Both? Neither?

The guards led the Vulcan woman into a large meeting room in which sat Khan, his first officer, a Bajoran wearing a general's uniform, and a dozen other senior officers of various races.

"General, I would like to introduce you to Agent Asil of the Federation Office of Professional Responsibility. Agent Asil, General Yndar, Commander in Chief of the Free Bajoran Military."

"General," the Vulcan nodded to the man.

"I've asked you here to provide input to help with our assault plan. We need to know just how much aid we can expect from your confederates in the Union," Khan stated.

"That is an acceptable reason for my presence," Asil conceded. "More so than the majority of times my presence has been requested."

"Politics," the General snorted.

"It was also so Counter-Intelligence could get you to repeat your story several times without being too obvious about it," Khan admitted. "Regrettable, but not worth the trouble to put a stop to it. My apologies."

"What do you require from my side of things?" Asil prompted, hoping to push past the platitudes.

IIIIIIIIII

The guards outside the Chancellor's office were impassive in the face of Doran's obvious and vocal displeasure.

"What's taking so long!" Khan's daughter growled, somehow managing to loom over a Klingon warrior nearly twice her size.

"The Grand Chancellor was unexpectedly delayed by matters of state," the Warrior replied, doing his best not to show how nervous he was at being confronted by a legend.

"QI'yaH! Tell her that I will give her five more minutes before I slay you and the other guards outside her office, burn through her door, and drag—"

The warrior held up a hand. "The Chancellor will see you now."

Still muttering invectives, Doran stomped past the guards and in to have her meeting.

The wizened form of the longest-serving Chancellor in the history of the Klingon Empire was behind her desk when Doran stormed in.

"Have a seat," the old woman commanded. Her head turned to regard the warriors who had followed the other woman in. "Leave us."

"What cause have I given to be insulted by forcing me to wait in your outer office?" Doran demanded the second they were alone.

"When you get to be my age, your bodily functions will be just as unpredictably urgent as mine have become," Azetbur said calmly. "Something that will happen to you in just a couple short decades so I think a bit of understanding might be in order."

"He told me you were busy with matters of state," Doran stated, her rage cooling.

"I believe that is one of the more common excuses he uses to spare my dignity," Azetbur snorted. "As if there's any shame in growing old. What do you want, Doran and why should I give it?"

"You know what I want, what I have always wanted: two dozen ships. As to why you should give it, you owe both your life and your position to my husband."

"Why should I embroil the Empire in a war with the Cardassian Union?" Azetbur demanded. "The situation has not changed, so my answer has not. I will provide support, I will provide non-Klingon ships, I will grant permission to any warrior who wishes to join Khan's forces. But I will not order an attack on the Cardassian Union. Not now when the domestic situation is as tenuous as it is."

"War with the Cardassians would drum up more public support for your government," Doran pointed out.

"Acting as the aggressor would irreparably harm our relations with the Federation," Azetbur replied. "Support our campaign would need if we were to be successful since our supply lines would be too long to support any serious efforts without the ability to transit Federation space and acquire supplies from Federation worlds."

"So you're going to do nothing to keep from offending those spineless cowards?" Doran growled.

"I …" the old woman's lips pursed. "In two days elements of Seventh Fleet will respond to a distress signal on Durandall Eight to find four Cardassian ships assaulting the planet. Their arrival will be too late to save the head of the Head of House Duras, who is currently on the planet inspecting one of his estates."

"About time you got the guts to do something about that dishonorable taHqeq," Doran snorted. "Seventh Fleet has a number of officers on exchange from Starfleet, does it not?"

"The main reason they were chosen," she agreed. "I'm old enough that I don't have much time left. I was not willing to risk that bastard son of a raped goat taking my job after I was gone."

"What happens next?"

"Mogh is going to stand before the council and demand vengeance. He'll state that the Cardassians robbed him of his kill, that such an insult to the empire cannot go unaddressed. I'll urge caution, the compromise we'll reach is the formation of a task force commanded by Mogh while my personal representative meets with Great Khan the Unkillable to ask for any information he might have to help determine the truth of the matter. Mogh's son will publicly decry how slow things are going and will go on half pay to fight as a volunteer along with a number of hotheads, three of his House's ships, and fifteen thousand volunteers recruited from the fleet marines. Having his son die or do well against the Cardassians and personal control over a large portion of the fleet should be enough to push Mogh into the Chancellor's chair even if the task force never has to fire a shot. The Empire gets stability, your father gets a few extra men, and I get to die knowing that all I've spent my life building won't be destroyed in a civil war."

"Who are you going to send to my father?" Doran asked neutrally.

"Do your best to convince him to lend his approval to what we're doing here," Azetbur told the younger woman. "None would dare doubt the word of Great Khan the Unkillable if he stated that he had evidence that the attack was due to Cardassian treachery. Do that and I will release the task force to wreak havoc on the Union." The old woman smiled. "Mogh's triumphant return after a successfully executed punitive action against the treacherous Cardassians would be most welcome to my plans."

"What if he's killed in action?"

"Mogh is my first choice, not my only choice," the old woman replied, giving the younger woman a measuring look.

"I see. What sort of escort am being given?"

"Four Birds of Prey which you are forbidden from using in offensive operations against the Cardassians without my prior approval."

"What if I did not wish to use the ships in offensive operations?" Doran asked. "What if I only wished them to be used to defend a system already under Bajoran control."

Azetbur raised a grey eyebrow. "I see." The old woman licked her lips. "That would be a different matter entirely, so long as control is not being actively contested when you enter the system. Also acceptable would be scouting Cardassian systems to try to gather evidence of Cardassian complicity in an attack on an Imperial world.

"Command will be given to my grandson, your son-in-law, with orders stating that while he is not to be the aggressor under any circumstances, our normal policy of vigorous self defense is still in place. Your role will be to serve as my personal on-scene representative. While you will not have any direct power over any of the ships I send, you will have power to make agreements and speak in my name to the Bajoran government."

"That is acceptable," Doran stated, trusting that she had enough influence over her son-in-law to direct operations as she saw fit.

"Good. Remember, it is not in the Empire's interest to fire the first shot in a war against the Cardassian Union. It's most definitely in the Empire's interests to fire the second and also the last."

IIIIIIIIII

The meeting went silent when the guards arrived to escort Asil back to her assigned quarters and picked up again after she had gone.

"Who does she really work for?" Yndar asked.

"I am unsure," Khan admitted. "I believe it is one of the Federation intelligence organs that does not officially exist."

"Can we trust her?"

"To a point," Khan replied. "My contacts agree that her story checks out."

"I believe that we can trust her so long as she believes our actions serve what she believes to be the interests of the Federation," T'Pera volunteered.

"Alright," Yndar agreed. "Just in case, I want to keep her in custody until after the operation has been carried out."

"Agreed," Khan nodded. "Any thoughts you would like to share now that she's not here to listen in?"

"I dislike the first part of the plan," T'Pera stated bluntly. "I believe it would be just as effective if I were to serve as bait. Failing that, I wish to accompany you."

"I need you on the _John Brown_ ," Khan said gently. "Both so that someone is available to take up the cause if I fall and to steady the crew."

"I am unsure that I would be able to prevent them from doing something unfortunate if something unfortunate were to happen to you, Great Khan," T'Pera admitted. "I am sure that General Yndar would be more effective in carrying out that role than I. His loyalty to the cause is as great as my loyalty to you, Great Khan. My place is at your side."

"Alright," Khan agreed. "Why don't we try this argument: There is no one in this dimension or any other that I trust to bail me out if things go wrong as much as. To do that, I need you on the J _ohn Brown_. General Yndar—" He nodded to the man. "—must focus on the fleet as a whole, leaving you and the _John Brown_ free to save me and the others if things go wrong."

"That is an acceptable point," T'Pera said reluctantly. "Just be sure that you are not killed or injured to the point that you are unable to calm things."

"I second that thought," the General spoke up. "Bajor needs you to be Wellington, not Nelson, my friend."

"That goes for you as well, my friend," Khan stated. "No unnecessary chances."

AN: Another chapter down, two left to go.


	8. For Evil to Triumph

Disclaimer: The ruins of Utopia

For Evil to Triumph

Romulus: 2368

Senator Decius listened as his fellows argued over the best course of action to resolve the Spock question. "You're all wrong," he said calmly.

"So what would you have us do then if you don't want him imprisoned, killed, or deported?" one of his arguing colleagues demanded. "To leave him alone."

"For now, yes," Decius agreed. "His presence does two things for us. Firstly, it helps our security forces identify disloyal elements. Secondly, it keeps Khan away. His arrest or execution is guaranteed to bring Khan and could lead to war with the Federation. His deportation would remove a rallying point for the traitors who may decide to do more than talk without Spock."

"It's a sad day when a Romulan Senator is too afraid to take action because it may offend a pirate or the milksops in the Federation," one of the other Senators sneered. "Next you'll state that the military should leave unconquered worlds to lay fallow or that the Emperor should listen to the opinions of the proles."

"As it happens, Senator Taibak, I do," Decius said with a wide grin. "The statement that conquest is the best way to expand and strengthen the empire is uncontradictable. That said, I disagree that our military should be occupied by invading low tech barbarian worlds. It blunts their edge and adds little of value to the empire."

"What would you have us do then?"

"I would suggest we add worlds that already have the capacity to manufacture useful materials and populations educated enough to be useful workers," Decius replied.

"And your assertion that the Emperor should listen to the proles?" Taibak demanded.

"Why do we have our fine security forces if not to find out what the mob is thinking?" Decius laughed. "Listen to the proles so that you know when they're likely to riot. Know when they will riot and it's easier to station security forces to remind them of their place."

"Of course." Taibak flushed. "Where are these educated manufacturing worlds you wish to add to the Empire? The Federation?"

"Would be too costly in terms of men and ships," Decius said regretfully. "I am afraid that prize will have to wait. The Klingon barbarians would be too much trouble to control to be worth it and their worlds are too poor in resources. Perhaps as an appetizer for the Federation, but not now."

"So where?"

"I propose that we expand at the expense of the fourth great power of the quadrant, the Cardassians," Decius's grin deepened. "They are strong enough to hone our military, yet still vulnerable as shown by the trouble they're having with the single pirate, Khan. They have several worlds ripe for resource extraction or colonization, they have a fairly educated population, and that without mentioning the political points we could earn by going to war. Add to that the fact that the proles are used to living under a police state and the fact that the security organs are already in place and you see that they would show much less resistance to living under our paternalistic form of government."

"What political points?"

"The Federation has been conditioned to believe the worst about the Cardassian Union by their irresponsible press and the Klingon Chancellor has the pirate's adopted daughter as one of her trusted advisors. We strike the Cardassians and we deepen positive relations with both of the other powers."

"Bah, why should we care about them?"

"Deeper relations make opportunities for infiltration, infiltration brings intelligence which in turn is a necessary step for invasion. And to answer your next question, for this to work we need to provoke the Cardassians into making the first move. We send aid to the pirate, we recognize Bajor as an occupied state, we send volunteers to fight under the pirate's banner, and if necessary we manufacture our own provocation if the snakes prove to be too cowardly. We do this and—" Decius cut off when his personal communicator chimed. "Forgive me, but I'm afraid I must cut things short. It is my daughter's naming day ceremony today and I am afraid that I promised her I would attend."

IIIIIIIIII

Michelle arrived on the bridge just before they were scheduled to drop out of warp in the Valo System to retake command from her second officer, an Andorian who'd been in the year behind her at the Academy. "Anything I need to know about?" Khan's adopted granddaughter asked as she flopped into her seat.

"One of the prizes had an engine malfunction," the man reported. "I detached the _Arvid Storsveen_ and the _Max Manus_ to help make repairs and escort them back in."

"Alright," she agreed. "Anything else?"

"A number of the prisoners have expressed an interest in defecting, provided we get their families out of the Cardassian Union first to prevent reprisal. Intel thinks it might be worth doing."

"Nothing to do with us unless and until the higher ups decide it does," Michelle said calmly.

"Pretty quiet other than that," her First Officer continued. "Any reason you decided to come on shift early?"

"Two," she admitted. "I figured that I should be the one to give the bad news about how the raid went."

"Not your fault, Captain. You had no—"

"But it is my responsibility," she interrupted. "I don't send subordinates, even senior ones, to deliver reports that no one wants to hear. My second reason is more important in any case." She grinned wide. "The _Calash_ is the scheduled picket this week."

"Ah." He grinned. "Give Razka my best."

Michelle had managed to finish reading the preliminary damage report for the missing transport ship when her helmsman announced that they were coming out of warp.

"We're being challenged by the picket ship, Captain," her communications officer reported. A smiling Bajoran male in uniform appeared on the screen.

"This is Captain Singh of the _James T. Kirk_ ," Michelle answered the hail.

"Captain Ch'Ano of the Bajoran Naval ship _Calash_ ," he replied with a wide grin. "Welcome home, Michelle."

"Good to be back Razka," Michelle replied.

"How'd things go?"

"Total failure," she admitted. "There were two dozen warships in the system when I did my recon so I pulled the plug. Don't like the idea of fighting two on one, even with surprise on my side. Unless it's in my favor of course, that I like ."

"Where'd you get the captured ships?"

Michelle felt a surge of pleasure as she contemplated the two dozen prizes being escorted in by her commands. "Managed to surprise a convoy. Escorts ran and the freighters surrendered when they realized they'd been left in the cold. No casualties on either side."

"Not as good as a load of rescuees, but still very respectable." The Bajoran grinned. "My orders are to direct you and anyone else that comes in to the repair yard. Your ships are going to be given a long-overdue upgrade of a few key systems and a quick refit. We're suspending combat operations until all the ships have received it. With any luck, the Cardassians will decide to use the time we give them to get sloppy."

"How wonderful would that be," Michelle laughed.

"On a more personal note, while you were gone, Ensign Tara Singh-Ch'Ano was promoted to Lieutenant and has been posted to the _John Brown_ to serve as her great-grandfather's new aide."

"Like mother like daughter," Michelle said, pride dripping from every syllable.

"Like sons, too," he continued proudly. "Cadet James T. Singh-Ch'Ano had been promoted to cadet commander of the Naval Academy marine brigade and Cadet Krim Singh-Ch'Ano was made the cadet sergeant major." He shot her a wink. "We raised good kids, Michelle."

"We did, Razka," she agreed.

IIIIIIIIII

Kuvok wordlessly activated his anti-eavesdropping measures as his Obsidian Order contact took his place on the other side of the table.

"What is it now?" the Cardassian demanded.

"I had assumed that you would like a status update. If I was mistaken, you have my apologies," Kuvok said blandly. "Was I mistaken?"

"You were not."

"Khan is planning something large. As yet, I have been unable to determine his target but I believe it to be something close to one of your core worlds. I am afraid that I cannot narrow it down further than that at this time."

"Was that all?"

"It was not. Dukat is being recalled to your home world to give testimony before the Detapa Council."

"How do you know that?" his contact demanded.

Kuvok merely raised in eyebrow in reply.

"The so called Bajoran resistance got that information somehow and passed it to Khan," the Cardassian stated. "You've managed to penetrate Khan's group of pirates more thoroughly than we had believed."

"It would also be reasonable to believe that we have extensive contact with the Bajoran resistance movement ourselves," Kuvok stated blandly. "I believe that if you were in my place, you would quickly see the potential uses one could find for a group of trained terrorists."

"They'd make fairly good disposable agents, anyway. Any chance I could persuade you to give me a list of names?"

"What do you have to offer for that information?" Kuvok replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Name your price," his contact replied.

Kuvok tilted his head. "Five hundred internal dissidents, seven jobs in Klingon space, and a pirate attack in Romulan space."

"How many of those dissidents do your superiors actually want?" his contact laughed.

"I am unsure. I believe that the list I will give you mostly contains individuals with close relatives working for Khan."

"Allows for the bonus of putting pressure on a couple of traitors anyway," the Cardassian said in approval. "Even if that's just a bonus, it's worth something. Well?"

"If one were to assume that I actually had a number of Bajoran dissidents on my payroll, one would be correct in their assumption that their value as intelligence sources would decrease after the Khan operation reaches a successful conclusion. Their value as disposable assets however, would remain."

"So?"

"So I ask you to again put yourself in my shoes. Imagine that you have to deal with a number of disloyal officers and politicians while at the same time you need a solution to pacify the general public after decades of indoctrination by an irresponsible press corps."

"I see. Work out how many you need and which ones you want and I'll see that they're able to escape to your waiting hands so long as you agree that none of them live very long."

"I believe the scenario I just outlined requires that none of the terrorists survive after their attacks on the Federation. Much better that they are all shot while trying to escape or commit suicide to avoid capture."

"Let's return to the subject at hand. Dukat is being recalled."

"Bajoran resistance is using his absence as an excuse to call for a conference with Khan. We have used our influence to see that the conference is held on Bajor."

"How'd you manage to get him to agree to risk himself?"

"It was not difficult." The Vulcan gave an approximation of a smile. "Khan's self image requires him to be willing to undertake any risk faced by his followers. I believe you can work out the rest yourself. Once one discovers the core of a being, one can manipulate them into almost anything simply by telling them things that conform to their image of the world. A useful skill in our line of work."

"That it is," the Cardassian said in satisfaction.

IIIIIIIIII

Senator Decius frowned when the festivities were interrupted by the arrival of a servant. His annoyance turned to fear after noticing the stricken look on the girl's face.

"Three agents from the…from the…" the girl's tongue refused to work when she tried to say the name aloud. "From the internal security directorate here to see you, Senator."

"Where are they?" Decius demanded.

"Waiting in your office, sir," the girl squeaked. "They said that there was no rush."

Decius was past the girl and running before she'd had a chance to finish. The good news was that there were only three of them and that they had come during the day, the bad was that they were in his house at all. It was never good to draw the attention of the Tal Shiar, no matter how high one's level in society.

The agents, two bland-looking men with one nondescript woman between them were seated in front of his desk when he arrived, apparently looking through the files on his computer.

"Have a seat, Senator," the left male agent half ordered, half suggested. "We will be with you in a moment."

After a moment of indecision, the senator took a seat in another of the chairs in his office reserved for clients and petitioners, deciding that choosing his own chair could be considered provocative, and besides, it would have also required him to move closer to the two men.

It took another fifteen nerve-wracking minutes before the two agents finally directed their attention to him.

"Earlier today, you had a meeting with a number of your colleagues, did you not?" the left male agent asked calmly.

"I did," Decius confirmed.

"What was discussed?" the right male agent demanded.

"We were debating the best course for the Empire to take in the near future," Decius answered honestly, knowing both that it was likely the agents had already listened to an audio transcript of the meeting and what would happen to him if he were caught making an untrue statement. "I am sure that if you were to contact Senator Taibak or any of the others present, that they would be pleased to confirm my statement."

"Senator Taibak is dead, along with all the others in your meeting. You are the only survivor we have at the moment," the left agent stated.

"What?" Decius went cold. "When I was with them they never made any statements that could be construed as disloyal. It is of course possible that I was not paying attention and will be happy to cooperate in any way with your investigation and to testify in court against any of the miscreants."

"They were not killed resisting arrest, nor did they commit suicide while in custody. They were murdered by a man we believe to have been an agent of the Obsidian Order." The woman spoke for the first time. "Why did you leave the meeting early?"

"Today is my daughter's name day ceremony. I promised to attend to make up for all the time I'm away from home dealing with matters of state," Decius replied quickly.

"Wonderful. How old is she?" the woman prompted.

"Eleven," Decius answered nervously.

"I see. Can you think of any reason the Cardassians might want to kill your colleagues?"

"Not unless they were coming to my point of view," Decius stated, starting to calm. "I have been trying to convince my fellows in the Senate that the Cardassian Union is ripe for the taking."

"Do tell," the male agent on the right prompted.

"The way I see it, there are four great powers in the sector. Ourselves, the Federation, the Klingons, and the Cardassians. To simplify things the Empire represents strength and order. The Federation represents moral weakness and order. The Klingons represent chaos and the appearance of strength. The Cardassians represent brutality and the appearance of strength."

"What does that have to do with your desire to expand into the Cardassian Union?" the male agent on the left demanded, looking bored.

"I've advocated that we use this in a possible conquest, that we take Cardassian planets but not directly bring them into the Empire. My idea is that we take them and allow some form of self rule, or at least the appearance of such. And, after a dozen or so years of that we have them petition for entry into the Empire."

"What is to stop them from retaining their independence?" right asked.

"Aside from the fact that we would never give it to them in the first place? The fact that any rational individual can see that independence is impossible without power. A look at what happened to the Bajorans proves that. They must seek patronage from one of the great powers. Even if they were given a choice in the matter, there is no better one than the Empire."

"Why not the Federation?" the woman prompted.

"Cowards who have shown that they would do anything to prevent conflict," Decius said fervently. "The Klingons are barbarians who would murder their offspring and rape their farm animals. They would already have experience with the Cardassians, which leaves us, the benevolent empire that liberated them and offers both protection and order." The senator smiled. "The strongest chains are those they would create for themselves."

IIIIIIIIII

Khan nodded to the First Minister of Free Bajor and her cabinet as he and General Yndar, Commander of all Bajoran Military forces, walked into the First Minister's office to brief her on the proposed action.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, my friend," Khan stated. "I trust you've all had time to look over the proposed plan?"

"We have," First Minister Solis Adami agreed. "I would like to start the meeting by protesting the fact that the plan calls for you and several volunteers to allow yourselves to be captured. Even if we could trust that the Federation would uphold their end of things, the risk is too great, my friend," she said gently. "We can find another way."

"You are all in agreement?" Khan asked, smiling in response to his companion's serious faces. "Again, I am humbled at the fact that I have been able to make such wonderful friends. I thank you all for your concern and I feel that I must apologize for the fact that I must disregard your request."

"My Secretary of War assures me that we have the forces needed to liberate Bajor," the First Minister persisted. "Your plan calls for a noble but unnecessary sacrifice."

"You are correct that we posses enough combat power to retake the Bajoran system. However, the problem is not taking Bajor," Khan sighed. "We've had that ability for over three years now. It's taking it without suffering losses high enough to prevent re-conquest." He nodded to the Bajoran Military Commander.

"The presence of the space station Terok Nor is the main problem we must solve before the liberation," General Yndar stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Its presence in Cardassian hands would cause us to suffer unacceptably high casualties in our liberation of the system. Taking it intact would greatly enhance our ability to prevent re-conquest."

"We are taking advantage of the fact that the Cardassians have lowered their security posture as part of the trap, to infiltrate as many of our people as we can onto the station," Khan continued. "We're hoping that my capture and imprisonment will strain their resources to the point that our people will have some chance of success."

"We've ramped up our intelligence collection capabilities in the home system as a preparation for the liberation," General Yndar stated, face frozen, voice still devoid of emotion. "We've managed to learn that the station command has standing orders to commence orbital bombardment of Bajor's major population areas upon the arrival of three or more potentially hostile vessels and to continue until the hostile forces retreat, surrender, or the station is forced to engage in combat. Millions of lives would be lost before we could stop it."

"What happens if our people are unable to take the station before the order goes out?" Bajor's chief diplomat, a distinguished-looking woman of mixed Bajoran and Cardassian heritage, asked.

"I will be on the lead ship as we enter the system," General Yndar began, eyes blurring as tears began to form. "Should I receive no indications that our people have been successful or should sensors indicate that the station is powering up its weapons in preparation for committing genocide, my ship…my ship will send a signal to Noonien's transport ship causing it to breach its warp core. Something our engineers assure us will either destroy or damage the station to the point that it no longer poses a threat to Bajor's civilian population."

"So you understand why we must cooperate with star-fleet's plan. Why we would have to even if we knew it to be nothing more than a ruse to allow the Cardassian Union to take me prisoner. In order for their plan to be successful, they must allow a ship under our control to dock with Terok Nor." Khan's smile disappeared.

"The plan is simple. I cooperate with our friends in star-fleet intelligence and allow myself to be captured as they wish. If they double-cross us or we are unable to take the station, we do what is necessary to prevent the Cardassian Union from perpetrating another horror on a group of innocent people."

"If that's the case then it's far better to use someone else as bait, Noonien. You're far too valuable to be taken away from the fleet," the First Minister said stubbornly. "I nominate myself to take your place. I'm an old woman, Noonien, not as old as you but ten times less spry. What can the Cardassians do to me? Take a handful of years? They're welcome to them if it makes it even a touch more likely that our people regain their homeland."

"Better I do it," the Secretary of War, an older Bajoran stated calmly. "You'll be needed for the reconstruction efforts after we've taken back our home."

"Don't sell yourself short," the First Minister's chief of staff, a middle aged Cardassian said with a grin. "We'll need you to keep us free. I on the other hand, sit in the perfect position of being easily replaced and high enough to be valuable. Not to mention my status as a race traitor."

"My friends," Khan laughed, raising his hand before the rest of the room could volunteer themselves. "I've selected myself for the simple reason that I'm the best capable of surviving this foolishness. Or have you forgotten just what I am and what my people are capable of?" Khan's smile deepened. "I promise you that I have every intention of surviving this. To be frank, I do not believe that there is more than a thirty percent chance that things will go as our friends in Federation Intelligence believe it will, even assuming that they are not planning to double-cross us. But as they say, there is no chance of reward without risk."

"Our chances of holding the system drop dramatically without the station," General Yndar stated. "Worse comes to worst, we'll evacuate as much of the population as we can and retreat. Rescuing the Bajoran people from the occupation stands second to liberating the system, but it would still stand as a success."

IIIIIIIIII

The Chairman of the Tal Shiar hit the lock release on his door after he'd decided he'd kept his subordinate and her subordinates waiting outside an appropriate amount of time.

"Speak," he ordered as she walked through the door.

"The Cardassian made a full confession before taking his life in his cell," the left agent said blandly.

"I think not," the Chairman replied. "It is regrettable, but we were unable to take such a highly trained man who was no doubt a member of the Obsidian Order, alive. It is therefore quite fortunate that the evidence our highly trained officers were able to unearth is so complete and damning."

"Understood, sir," the right agent agreed.

"Good. Have the confession sent to my workstation for perusal," he added. "We'll call it a training exercise to check the proficiency of the people we have in the forgery section. If they did as good a job as I expect they did, they will be commended."

"Yes, sir."

"Be sure to remind them of the fact that if the quality of their work fails to meet my expectations, they will meet the full weight of my disappointment."

"I will, sir."

"What of the surviving senator?"

"Preliminary investigation seems to indicate that his story is truthful and that he does not stand to directly gain by the deaths of his colleagues."

"And his ideas?"

"Our analysts believe that he's overly optimistic but that a modified version of his plan may have merit. They're divided on if we should allow dissidents the opportunity to go into voluntary exile with Khan."

"What're the primary objections?"

"That it is never a good idea to permit one's enemies to live and that it is a doubly bad idea to permit one's enemies to live and gain skills that they may use against you in the future."

"Mitigated by Ambassador Spock's ludicrous ideas about pacifism. One of the reasons we've permitted him to run free is he acts as a moderator on internal traitors." The other was that his presence prevented Khan from taking a more direct role in internal politics. "Use it as a way of disposing of any that may become a problem in the future with a note that the program be evaluated for effectiveness at some later date."

"I will, sir."

"Is that all?"

"It is, sir."

"Leave."

He waited until the sensors outside his office confirmed that the woman was gone before returning to work. He neither knew nor cared why his handlers in the Federation wanted the senators dead or how they'd managed to get what was incontrovertibly an agent of the Cardassian Union to do it for them. All he cared about was that the credit for dealing with the assassin went to him.

AN: Funny how alternate timelines work in the ST universe, same faces in different roles.


	9. Free at Last

Disclaimer: KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN! KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

Free at Last

Valo System: 2368

Worf was somewhat disappointed to learn that he would not get the opportunity to meet with the legendary Khan after his arrival at the seat of the Bajoran government in exile. It seemed the great man was currently out system on some mission of great importance. No matter, he thought to himself as he walked down the gangway that connected his flagship with the station. He was there to do battle, not to meet childhood heroes.

"Greetings, son of Mogh," the scarred part-Vulcan female waiting at the foot of the gangway said as he stepped onto the station. "I am T'Pera, first officer of the _John Brown_. I welcome you in the name of my captain."

"It is an honor," Worf stated in reply. It seemed he'd get the chance to meet one of his childhood heroes after all.

"My captain would state that the honor was his to get a chance to meet another willing to risk life in our struggle. Pleasantries out of the way, I must ask, do you intend to place your forces at our disposal or do you prefer to maintain separation?"

"The first," Worf stated certain, that there could be no greater place to gather honor than under the command of the Great Liberator, Khan the Peerless.

"We currently have two operations planned. One would present the opportunity to participate in a large fleet action, while the other would require much more independent action accompanied by a higher element of risk. Do you have a preference?"

"No commander worth his salt turns down a chance to be out from under higher authority and no Klingon worthy of his house runs from danger."

"Are you able to attend a meeting immediately or do you have other pressing business you must attend to today?"

"I have placed myself at your disposal. My time is yours to do with as you wish."

A sharp nod summoned a uniformed Bajoran. "Petty Officer Ren will lead you to the conference room where the other captains will meet you. Live long and prosper, Captain Worf."

"It was an honor, First Officer T'Pera."

Worf glanced down the corridor to where the other captains in his task force had gathered while they waited for him to finish his conversation and motioned for them to join him. Quickly briefing them on the parts of the conversation that were relevant to them before turning to his assigned guide.

"We are ready to go to the conference room, Petty Officer Ren."

"This way, Captains."

Out of habit, Worf carefully memorized the path from his ship's mooring through the maze of corridors to the meeting room.

"Is there anything else you or your fellow captains require, sir?"

"That will be all," Worf replied. With a heart full of eagerness, the Klingon stepped through the automatic doors and into the conference room.

His group was the first to arrive and after a moment of careful consideration, he choose a seat them around a portion of the table that offered a good view of the entrance but not the best field of fire. It showed willingness to subordinate themselves to a more senior person coupled with unwillingness to be at the bottom of the heap. A good compromise he decided.

It wasn't long before the doors slid open to admit another Klingon, one several years older than himself if the grey on his temples was any indication, and accompanied by a mixed group of mostly Klingons in a motley array of costumes, most of which bore the sigils of Houses Dis and Singh.

"I am Worf, son of Mogh son of Worf," he introduced himself to the other man.

"Fnord, son of my father Knurd, son of Fnord, and my mother Doran, daughter of Legendary Khan the Unkillable. We are waiting for my kinswoman, Michelle daughter of Tara, daughter of Khan the Peerless. She should arrive soon."

"I have heard of you, your father, and your mother. It is an honor to have a chance to fight by your side," Worf replied, pleased at the chance to be in the company of such warriors of renown. Should they live through the next few months, he had the feeling that his captains and crews would be able to accumulate stories of the sort that would ensure they would never need pay for their own drinks in any port. Should they perish, they'd pass into legend, their example providing tales to nourish and inspire a hundred generations of warriors. It was a heady feeling.

"The honor is ours," Fnord stated. "Long has your house been allied with my father's. Long was your namesake a friend of my esteemed grandfather." He nodded to the Cardassian male on his right. "This is my second, Captain Bendras of House Singh." The older man nodded to the Klingon female on his right. "His wife, my third, Captain Melota, daughter of Kurrivis."

"My second," Worf nodded to an elderly Klingon male. "Captain Keth of House D'jon. My third." This time a middle-aged female. "And my kinswoman Captain Lursa of House Martok."

Just as the two senior captains spent the next few moments introducing the junior captains, the doors slid apart again to reveal a human female of indeterminate age shadowed by another motley group of starship captains. "I am Michelle Singh, of Clan Singh, captain of the _James T. Kirk_ , daughter of Tara daughter of Great Khan, the Liberator."

"Kinswoman, it is my honor to inform you that this is Worf, son of Mogh son of Worf," Fnord announced. The man then introduced each of the captains in the room to the others.

"I had the honor of meeting your grandfather," Michelle stated, turning back to Worf. "He was a good man. He died a warrior's death."

"In his moment of triumph, secure in the knowledge that his enemies were dead and his House was ascending," Fnord agreed. "Few are half as fortunate."

"That my father thought so highly of me that I received my grandfather's name has always been a source of pride," Worf replied with undisguised pleasure.

"As it should be," Michelle said. "Have you been briefed on what we're to accomplish?"

"I have not," Worf stated.

"The plan is a bit of a departure from how we normally operate," Michelle began. "The normal objective is to effect as many rescues as possible. This time the objective is to cause as much damage to Cardassian interests as we possibly can before we're forced to return to base." She transmitted the data to each of her fellow captains' padds. "I have here a list of possible targets. I propose we go through it, taking turns selecting which ones we'd like for ourselves."

"As our newest volunteers, please take the privilege of making the first selection," Fnord nodded to the other Klingon.

"Thank you." Worf's eyes flicked to the pad for a few moments. "The shipyard."

Fnord nodded to his cousin who nodded back, signaling that he should make the next selection. "The convoy to Minos VII."

"The base on Yavin IV." Michelle gave the other two a cold grin. One by one, the captains came forward in turn to select their targets until none remained.

"Captains!" Michelle raised her voice. "Let's set the Union ablaze!"

"QAPLA'!" the assembled captains roared in approval.

IIIIIIIIII

Khan relaxed in his chair as around him the crew held their breaths in nervous anticipation, wondering if their mission would be compromised before it had a chance to begin.

"Status of the unknown ship?" he asked calmly.

"Looks to be one of the new Akira-class ships," the crewman manning the freighter's primitive sensors reported. "Can't say for sure with what I have to work with, Captain."

"Orders, sir?" the helmsman asked.

"Maintain course, pretend we haven't noticed them," Khan ordered. "Pretend we're scouting out a prison world in Cardassian space. Act normal and they will perceive us as normal."

"They're hailing us, sir," the communications officer reported.

"Let the computer give an automated reply," Khan replied. "Federation crews expect a certain amount of slackness from their merchant counterparts."

"Yes, sir."

"We'll give it…six or seven minutes before we put a person on the line, audio only," he continued. "I'd say that would give enough time for the alarm to wake up the officer of the watch and get them to the communication console."

"Understood, sir. What should I say?"

"Same thing we rehearsed," Khan said patiently. "We're a merchant ship headed to Cardassian space to deliver a load of manufactured goods from Archibald II."

"And we refuse to agree to any searches for contraband," the man agreed. "Sorry, sir. It shouldn't feel any different from dealing with the Cardassians but it does somehow."

"The Federation ship is changing course," the crewman gave an update.

"Intercept course?"

"Not…exactly, sir. Looks like they're setting things up to make things easier on themselves if we decide to run and they decide to chase us."

"Alright," Khan agreed. "Time since they began hailing?"

"Six minutes, thirty five seconds, sir," Communications replied.

"Answer them, sound as tired as you can and somewhat annoyed that they were inconsiderate enough to ruin your nap."

"This is the _Candlestick Maker_ out of New New Aberdeen." He yawned loudly. "What can I do for you?"

"This is Captain Forester of the USS _Geneva_ ," the woman's voice sounded tinny over their low quality communication system. "Are you aware that your present course will take you into Cardassian-controlled space?"

Khan called up the woman's file and began reading as his communications officer replied. "We are. What's your point?"

"What is the nature of your cargo?"

"Manufactured goods."

"You are aware that there is an embargo on the export of non-humanitarian material to Cardassian space," the Captain's voice said sounding eager.

"Again, what's your point?"

"My point is that I would like you to allow me to conduct an inspection of your cargo to confirm that you aren't about to inadvertently violate the embargo," the woman's voice sounded smug. "Please cease acceleration and lower your shields."

"I'm going to need to talk to the captain about this," Communications said, sounding resigned. "Hang on." The officer muted the channel.

"Ten minutes and then inform them that the embargo order only applies to Federation-flagged vessels. Point out that we are not and state that the captain refuses to grant permission to inspect the cargo as that would put us behind schedule. If they push, be more firm, get loud, get angry, use terms like 'illegal order, piracy, and diplomatic incident.' Cut channel and ignore them after that," Khan ordered.

IIIIIIIIII

Worf's smile was victorious despite the carnage surrounding his seat on the bridge. Blood-spattered walls and burned out consoles along with three shattered hulks that had only minutes before been three Galor class warships gave further evidence of the just how difficult fight they'd endured had been.

"Another Galor has just warped into the system, Captain," his third officer reported.

"Engineering!" Worf called out.

"Twenty minutes to get Warp, Captain."

"Status of the boarding parties?"

"They're still setting charges, sir," his second officer replied. "They state that they will be done in fifteen minutes."

"Tell them that they know their duty, that we will buy them the time they need, and that we will see them in Stovokor."

"Today is a good day to die, Captain," his second officer replied with an eager smile. "I've instructed the boarding team to exfiltrate if possible without endangering the mission. It would be a pity for our victory to be unknown on the home world."

"Fine," Worf replied. A grin split his face as he contemplated the upcoming fight. The last few minutes of his life promised to be glorious.

"Captain," the communication officer spoke up. "The new Cardassian ship is hailing us."

He took a moment to school his features. "On screen." A severe looking female with high, aristocratic cheekbones appeared on the view screen.

"Greetings, Captain, I am Glinn Dal Tulet speaking for Gul Lasaran, captain of the ship _Axon_. Let me congratulate you on your fight. Pulling off a victory against three larger ships is a notable accomplishment even with surprise on your side."

"You did not call to congratulate me," Worf stated flatly.

"I did not," the Cardassian agreed. "Had my ship been even an hour later, I have no doubt that you'd have repaired yourselves to the point that you could be a challenge, if you were still here at all. Still, the fortunes of war can be fickle, can they not? Our sensors report that your warp core is damaged, your disruptor banks inoperable. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. There is nothing you can do at this point but cause unnecessary death."

"Shields?!" Worf barked.

"Fifty percent, Captain," his tactical officer reported.

"It will have to do," Worf stated calmly. "Helm, set a course for the Cardassian ship. Ramming speed!"

"QAPLA'!" the bridge crew roared in approval. It truly was a good day to die.

"Think of your crew, Captain. We will burn through your shields and destroy your ship before you reach us."

"I would not be so cruel as to deny them an honorable death in favor of a life of dishonor as prisoners," Worf sneered. "Engineering!"

"We need only to get to within two thousand kilometers, Captain, after that we can breach the core and take them with us," the officer said eagerly.

"So be it," Glinn Dal Tulet said with apparent remorse. "Goodbye, Captain Worf." The Cardassian signaled to have the feed cut. A look of surprise appeared on her face when nothing happened, then a frown. "One moment please, Captain Worf," she said, looking unsure for the the first time since the conversation began. "My…the captain of this vessel has instructed me to inform you that he is feeling merciful. Give your parole and he will permit you to return to Klingon space."

Worf's sneer deepened. "I refuse. Tell your ranking officer that if he wishes to see tomorrow, you will lower your shields and prepare to be boarded."

An answering sneer bloomed on Glinn Dal Tulet's face. "Do not mistake mercy for cowardice, Captain Worf. We—" she cut off, a look of incredulity appeared on her face. Not one of the Klingons watching missed the way her hand twitched towards the disruptor on her hip. The woman's jaw clenched. "We…the ca—the ranking officer on this ship, accepts your terms, Captain Worf."

"A pity," Worf stated, sounding disappointed. "Today was a good day to die." He felt a wave of sympathy for the officer on the view screen. How unbearable it must be to have been to have had to serve under a coward. He signaled for his communications officer to cut the feed.

"Boarding party assembled in the transporter room, Captain."

"Send them over," Worf ordered. "Inform them that I will be personally displeased if any of our prisoners are harmed in any way. Even the dishonorable bIHnuch that calls himself their commanding officer."

"Yes, Captain."

"And have Glinn Dal Tulet brought to me immediately in my quarters," Worf added. "I wish to offer my personal condolences at her misfortune of being saddled with a QI'yaH tInbIHnuch like her former ranking officer."

"Yes, Captain."

The door to his quarters chimed five minutes later. "Enter!"

Dal Tulet paused in the doorway as her eyes flickered around the room before settling on the bed for a few moments. Jaw clenching, the woman visibly braced herself before stepping into the room.

"A pleasure to meet you in person, Glinn Dal Tulet," Worf greeted her.

"Please answer one question, Captain, before we begin," Dal Tulet requested, her face impassive.

"Ask it."

"Is it true that your regulations allow the second in command of a Klingon warship to kill an unfit commander?"

"They require it."

"Count yourself fortunate for your government's enlightened policies, Captain," Dal Tulet said calmly. "Not all of us are half as blessed as you are."

"It would have been a good fight," Worf consoled the woman. "But it would have also meant that we would enter the next world in the company of your former ranking officer."

"Which would have taken some of the luster off the privilege of watching him die," she agreed. "Thank you for your consideration, Captain, I am ready to meet my fate."

"What fate is that?" Worf asked, choosing to be amused rather than insulted by the woman's assumptions.

"The fate of any captive called to their captor's bedroom, Captain. It is unpleasant, but endurable considering what will happen to my crew if I refuse."

"Have a seat," Worf waved the woman to one of the chairs around his table. "Have you ever had bloodwine?"

"I have not yet had the pleasure. Assuming it's alcoholic, I will gratefully accept if you are offering," she said, figuring intoxication would make things easier to bear.

"It is," Worf stated, placing a glass in front of her and another in front of himself as he took a seat. "Allow me to make one thing clear before we continue. This is a ship of the Klingon Empire, I am the scion of one of the Greater Houses. More, I am operating under the command of Khan the Peerless. No member of your crew will be harmed so long as I or any of those under my command still draw breath. I asked you here to offer my condolences at your misfortune of being assigned to a coward. I did not order you here to compound the shame of your defeat. The reason we are in my bedroom is because his is a small ship, there is only one conference room and that one is currently open to vacuum. I felt it best to keep our conversation private and this was the only space I had available."

The woman rocked back in her chair. "I…I apologize, Captain Worf, I…I'd forgotten that…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "My former commander knew better than to attempt anything with me. The crew was not so fortunate. To my eternal regret, I was not always able to protect them."

"Would you be willing to swear out a complaint?"

"What?"

"Sector Governor Knurd has set up a tribunal to deal with cases like your former Captain. Swear out a complaint and I promise it will be seen to." He laughed. "Everything goes well and you might be fortunate enough to watch him die after all."

"I will," she agreed, cheered immensely by the thought. "I'll also see that my crew cooperates fully with the investigation." She grinned. "While at the same time ordering them to be as obstructionist as possible in every other area."

"What a loss it was for the Empire that you were born on the wrong planet," Worf lamented. "The Union is unworthy of you."

"True, but duty is duty and several of my crew have families in places the Obsidian Order can reach them. Should that change…well, perhaps we could discuss things."

"Khan the Ever Victorious has a policy of rescuing the family members of any who wish to defect." Worf understood that the great man's people had gotten quite good at it over the past several decades.

"In that case, I shall look forward to revisiting the subject with great anticipation, Captain."

"As will I, Glinn," Worf laughed.

IIIIIIIIII

Michelle leaned back in her chair as she contemplated the target they were tracking. It wasn't much, a simple ore carrier. Something worth hitting only if there was nothing more interesting in the area. Still, it prompted the question, what was it doing in this sector of space? Far away from any known mines or manufacturing worlds or anything else that would have required its presence.

"Status of the target's shields?" she asked.

"Navigation only, Captain. They don't seem to know we're here."

"Prepare a boarding party. Tell them I want the target's computer intact."

"Yes, Captain."

"Should I hail and order them to heave to?" the communications officer asked.

"No. Weapons, target shield generators and any weapons they might have. Wait until after firing to raise shields. I don't want them to have any opportunity to purge their computer."

"Yes, Captain."

"Think they might be hiding something in this sector we'd be interested in?" her first officer asked.

"I think it's a possibility," Michelle agreed.

"Firing in three…two…one…direct hit. Shields up, firing again…another hit. They're dead in the water, Captain."

"Boarders away!" Michelle ordered. She forced herself to stay composed for several tense minutes while waiting for the boarding party to report back.

"Lieutenant K'tarr reports that the ship is theirs without friendly casualties."

"Enemy?" Michelle prompted.

"One death, ship's captain." Who had had the misfortune of being far more willing to go down with his ship than the crew.

"Convey my congratulations and stress to the engineering teams the importance of prioritizing the ship's computer. I want to know where she came from and where it was going."

"Yes, Captain."

IIIIIIIIII

Gul Hadar kept his face carefully blank when four individuals belonging to the Obsidian Order invaded his office in the company of what appeared to be a Vulcan male.

"What can Central Command do for the Order?" he asked, keeping his tone business-like.

"We require your complete cooperation in the apprehension of one of the most notorious criminals in the sector," the apparent leader said with a smile that promised good things.

"Central Command is always happy to help with the apprehension of wanted criminals," Gul Hadar said cautiously, he knew that smile, he knew that despite what it promised, what it delivered was horror and pain.

"Wonderful. I knew you'd be intelligent enough to be reasonable." He turned to the individual on his right. "Put a hold on the warrant for Gul Hadar's arrest for obstruction."

The individual tapped his padd without making a word or sound.

"The first thing I need you to do is to have these individuals quietly detained in cargo hold number four." The operative placed a data pad on Gul Hadar's desk. "You may inform them that this is just a precautionary measure and that they are not suspected of any crime at the moment. Be sure to remind them how quickly that can change if they do not cooperate."

"I'll have my security chief see to it," he agreed.

"Yes, the Changing. I'm afraid that he and his second are going to have to be detained in one of the secure cells. As with the others, this is merely a precautionary measure and the increased level of security is due only to his unique physiology and not in any way due to an increased level of suspicion on our parts."

"I'll have his third see to it," Hadar amended.

"Wonderful. While you do, be sure to inform him that Operative Sar—" He waved to the woman on his left. "—will be his direct superior for the duration of our operation."

"Of course."

"Excellent. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter, Gul Hadar." The operative turned to the individual on his right. "Be sure to note in our report that Gul Hadar was not obstructionist in any way."

The individual made several notes on their data pad without sound or verbal comment.

"Now," the operative continued, "the Order understands how difficult it would be for you to have to run this station with half of your security and two thirds of your bridge crew unable to perform their usual duties. Know that we are not without sympathy and know that we do not expect you to do so."

Hadar remained silent, not trusting himself to speak.

"I can see that you are overcome with curiosity about exactly how we are going to help you and gratitude that we are willing to do so in the first place." The chief operative beamed. "Wonder no longer. Along with myself and my team, the Order had the foresight to send more than enough extra personnel to not just replace your missing bridge crew and security staff, but to more than double your normal security compliment. Isn't that just grand?"

Oddly enough, Gul Hadar had no trouble containing his enthusiasm.

IIIIIIIIII

Michelle frowned as she considered the information her techs had pulled out of the ship's computer. The Cardassians, it seemed, had decided to react to the danger posed by Khan by building hundreds of small stations rather than a few larger, better defended ones. Looked like their target list had just increased dramatically. Security through obscurity was a valid tactic in the short term; time to show them why it inevitably failed in the long term.

"Status of the captured ship?" she asked the officer at the engineering station.

"We can have it running in an hour, Captain," the engineer replied.

"Get to work. We might need the extra room." Depending on whether the Cardassians had chosen to continue the practice of running their new stations with slave labor or not. Her mission brief was to cause as much trouble as possible. She'd be sure each station she captured sent out a distress signal before the scuttling charges detonated.

IIIIIIIIII

Legate Dulok had been the civil and military commander of Special Administrative Area Eighty-Eight for nearly two decades. He'd spent his career fighting against the Bajorans and their pirate allies, from being the junior Gil aboard the _Kraxon_ during the conquest of the accursed planet to the action that had gotten him his current position. When as the Jagul in command of a task-force he'd managed to deliver to Central Command one of the few decisive victories against the pirate fleet.

He had nearly half a century of experience against the enemy and he'd thought that had translated to insight on their motivations and actions. They'd focus mainly on prison worlds, reeducation camps, and any facilities that were likely to play host to large numbers of forced laborers. They'd occasionally hit targets of opportunity like merchant convoys and lone patrol vessels and they'd generally avoid purely military or civilian areas as being unworthy of the cost to their time and resources. They were a dangerous nuisance but they did not pose any major threat to the Union.

The past weeks had shown him to be wrong. It was as if Khan had gone mad, it didn't make any sense.

"Ten more sh'ps overdue and f'fteen d'stress s'gnals, Legate Dulok," his aide, a burly man whose speech still carried the characteristic lilt of the colony world he'd been raised on reported.

"Has Jagul Deemeere reported in?"

"He states that he 's m'ssing four more sh'ps 'nclud'ng the one he sent to check on the status of the sh'pyards, Legate Dulok."

"Status of merchant shipping?"

"Merchant sk'ppers are doing their best to f'nd excuses to stay 'n port. Trade's down n'nety percent s'nce th's all started."

"Still no indication on what set them off this time?"

"Nott'ng the Order's been w'lling to share, Legate Dulok."

"Of course not," he sighed. Well, he reflected to himself, at least it can't get any worse.

As if in response to a taunt, it was at that moment that the air-raid siren began to squeal.

"Flot'lla numbering at least eighteen enemy sh'ps have just attacked l'stening post n'ne," his aide reported, relaying the information he was getting though his ear-piece. "Outpost n'ne has fallen. Seven's under atta— seven has fallen. There's nott'ng between them and the planet save the defense platforms, s'r."

Should never have let Deemeere go on patrol, Dulok reproached himself. But who could have predicted they'd have been audacious enough to attack his area headquarters? They'd never done something half as ambitious before.

"Scramble everything we have including the merchant ships," Dulok barked. "Tell them they can be battering rams and mobile shields if they lack working armament."

"Yes, Legate Dulok," his aide said, relaying the orders.

"Add that I estimate they have a five percent chance of survival if they follow my commands. Note that their chance drops to zero if they are foolish enough not to. For them and their families."

"By your command, Legate Dulok."

IIIIIIIIII

Fnord looked bored as his ships approached the planet. It had been a long road to reach this point and he'd come a long way from the boy his mother had sent to her father to receive lessons on how to be a warrior and what it meant to be a man.

"Sensors report thirty ships lifting off, Captain," his tactical officer reported. "Mostly merchants, with a few older designs mixed in."

"Focus on the defense platforms. Make me a hole."

"Yes, Captain."

"Lt. Commander Vostok, tell the _Irena Sendler_ and the _Witold Pilecki_ to move into position as soon as we knock the platforms out and have the other ships cover them. Inform Captains Endilev and Alandra that they are to deliver the ultimatum that we will commence orbital bombardment of all military facilities if they do not immediately surrender themselves if I am otherwise occupied."

"Yes, Captain," Communications replied.

"Helm, right twenty degrees. Let's see if we can do something about this sortie."

"Aye, Captain."

IIIIIIIIII

Gul Hadar's face was impassive as he surveyed his bridge. Every station, save his own, was being occupied by a member of the Obsidian Order. It seemed they weren't so far gone to think they could commandeer a military station without serious repercussions. As it was, he was sure Central Command would be asking some pointed questions about why the Order had so many trained personnel on hand.

"Freighter approaching. It matches the description we have of the pirate king's transport ship, sir."

Gul Hadar sourly noted that the individual operating the tactical station had reported the information to the still unnamed scum from the Obsidian Order, not him, the nominal station commandant.

"Allow them to dock and wait until they've gotten three bulkheads in before making the arrest," the head operative ordered.

"Remind them of our deal," the mysterious Vulcan spoke.

"Of course," the operative agreed. "Remind the security force that non-lethal force is to be used only and that the crew is not to undergo any rigorous interrogation until after our friend from the Federation has had his chance to remove his agents from the criminals."

"Yes, sir," the individual at the tactical station agreed. "What about the pirate chief?"

The lead operative glanced back to the Vulcan.

"The deal was that I would be present for the interrogation and would be permitted to submit a list of questions I wanted to be answered," the Vulcan said calmly.

"Of course," the chief operative agreed. "Inform the interrogators that they may begin preparations but that they are to hold off until both myself and our guest are available to monitor the process."

IIIIIIIIII

Sel Corat's heart was filled with terror that one of the men had disobeyed his orders to keep their weapons on stun despite the graphic threats he'd made about the fate of anyone stupid enough to do so and the checks his subordinates had made. Success here would mean his career. Failure would mean his life.

He almost missed it when his com crackled. "Go!" he shouted, pushing one of his subordinates into the corridor. "Go! Go! Go!"

The sounds of weapons fire and screams echoed through the station as his men carried out their orders to the letter.

Corat sagged with relief when he peeked around the corner and was greeted with the sight he'd been hoping for. Every pirate was on the ground and, more importantly, every pirate was still breathing. His superiors would not have been pleased to be denied the chance at a public trial and execution.

"Restrain the prisoners and secure their ship." He took the opportunity to place a boot in the pirate king's side and immediately regretted his actions. The man felt like he'd been crafted out of neutronium and Corat was half afraid that he'd broken a toe.

"Hatch is locked, sir," his subordinate reported. "Sensors report no life signs on the ship."

"Put guards on the hatch and seal all approaches. Load the prisoners on the gurneys and get them to the interrogation rooms."

IIIIIIIIII

The head operative relaxed a touch when his deputy informed him of the successful capture. If given the chance, he'd have been willing to wager that their target would have found some way to slip out of the trap before it sprung. With luck, he'd be able to be off this dreary station and on a shuttle back home within the day.

"Shall we be about it then?" he asked his counterpart from the Federation.

"Yes," the Vulcan agreed.

"After you," the head operative said grandly, gesturing to the turbo-lift.

"I find myself in a bit of a bind," the Vulcan said after the doors closed.

"Oh? Anything I can help you with?"

"Not all of my agents in place are worth retrieving. At the same time I am unwilling to leave them in your hands."

"I'll inform the guards that they are to ignore a reasonable amount of weapons fire."

"I appreciate the consideration."

"Not at all, I'm sure you'd do the same for me if our positions were reversed. Ah, here's our stop." The doors opened and they stepped off the lift. "You, what's your name?"

"Sel Corat, sir. I was in charge of the group you assigned to capture the criminals and secure the ship."

"Take our guest to the holding area where the pirate crew is being held. Allow him—" He turned to the Vulcan. "Would six be enough?"

"Six should be sufficient, thank you," the Vulcan agreed.

"Six weapons discharges and then allow him to remove as many prisoners as he wishes. Those prisoners are to be given food and are not to be harmed or questioned in any way. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," the clearly confused guard agreed.

"Wonderful. When he is done, escort him to the pirate king's cell." The head operative watched as his guest followed the limping guard to his destination. "Well," he said to himself. "Best be about it."

Whistling cheerfully, he strolled down the corridor and past the guards into the cell that held his prized prisoner.

"Wake him up," he ordered.

"Readings indicate that he's already awake, sir."

"Oh?"

"Forgive me," the prisoner spoke up. "I've had so few opportunities to relax in the last few decades."

"I understand completely," the head operative said with apparent sympathy. "You of course need no introduction, so permit me to introduce myself; I am the one who was assigned to your capture."

"Please excuse me for not rising and offering you my hand," Khan said dryly.

"Of course. Rest assured that any lapse of etiquette is completely understandable under the present circumstances."

"Thank you," Khan said.

"Just because we've captured you and we are going to torture you and execute you is no reason to be rude. Speaking of which, I want to start off by telling you that I regret what is about to happen," the Cardassian sighed, his earlier cheer muted.

"Oh?"

"Yes, we both know that you are not going to break under the pain and spill everything you know. Which," he sighed again, "makes this whole exercise a rather tedious waste of time in my opinion. I want you to know that were it up to me, we'd never start with something so barbaric, ineffective, and wasteful. We'd skip straight to a wide array of chemicals the Order has developed over the years for circumstances such as we find ourselves in now. Likely just as ineffective, but you never know." The man shook his head in regret. "Still, orders, you understand."

"That you'd be the next guest of this chair if you refused to follow them? Yes, I understand very well how your organization operates."

"I knew you'd be a gentleman about this," the man smiled. "I feel it only fair to warn you that while I dislike inflicting pain and, if permitted to make the choice myself, would never personally inflict it for the sole reason of doing so, the man assigned to do so has no such reservations. I'd apologize for that if doing so didn't risk angering my superiors, which would likely end with me being thrown out an airlock or being made the next guest of that chair," the Cardassian joked. "I will of course, be on hand and I promise that I shall do my best to ensure that he does not go too far. One can't have you looking too rough for your trial and execution. But, you understand, I can only do so much. It is an unfortunate situation the two of us have found ourselves in, but that's no reason not to try to make the best of things."

IIIIIIIIII

The two guards Corat had assigned to watch Khan's ship stood alert, content to stare unmoving down the corridor for hours until their relief arrived. They thought their task was to guard the ship from the people on the station, not to guard the station from what should have been an empty ship. It was an understandable error; the Order did not select their low level muscle for their imagination.

They reacted with identical swiftness when the hatch cracked open, and died moments later, the deed done almost before either knew they were in any danger. Neither had managed to make so much as a sound, let alone draw a weapon or raise an alert. Something that would not have made a difference to the two corpses, but may have made things a touch more difficult for Khan's hand-picked boarders as they crept into the station to link up with their allies in the resistance.

Five minutes later, there was no sign that any violence had been done and two new Cardassian guards stood to either side of the hatch, staring unmoving down the corridor.

IIIIIIIIII

Gul Hadar frowned when the lights on the bridge flickered. That shouldn't be possible with all the redundancies designed in.

"Contact engineering," he barked at the Order operative at the communications console.

"No response, sir," the operative reported, sounding puzzled. "Wait. Security reports that the laborers are revolting."

"Federation Miranda class— no, pirate ship _John Brown_ has just de-cloaked five thousand meters off the number five spire. They appear to be sending boarding teams across."

"Raise shields. Target Ashalla and commence orbital bombardment. Use the intercom to inform the ridge nosed rats and the pirates that bombardment will continue until they throw down their weapons and surrender and that we will move on to the next largest city once Ashalla has been destroyed. Target the enemy ship with tubes five through six and fire on my mark."

"I can't, sir," the operative at tactical stated, sounding horrified.

"Then move aside for someone who can!" Hadar roared. Order or no, he'd see the bastard shot for the crime of wasting precious seconds with his incompetence.

"It's not that, sir. I've been locked out of the system. I literally can't. We're helpless, sir."

"What?" Hadar asked dumbly. That was another thing that shouldn't have been possible.

IIIIIIIIII

Khan's captors shifted nervously when the lights began to flicker. That was unexpected. Unexpected things were bad in their experience. The sound of tortured metal as their prisoner ripped through restraints strong enough to restrain a rampaging Klingon with the same ease that they'd have torn a sheet of paper was the confirming sign that things had gone very, very wrong.

The old man placed the palm of his left hand on the back of the first guard's head and violently slammed his face into the nearest bulkhead while drawing the man's disruptor with his right hand and firing at the second guard in one smooth motion.

"How?" the head operative asked, making no move to draw his own sidearm. "Those restraints were designed to hold your kind, you shouldn't have been able to get out."

"Twice human maximum was the baseline," Khan explained, flipping the switch from disrupt to stun. "I have the fortune of being much more than that."

"Of course. My apologies for the fact that my people underestimated you so badly. A terrible oversight on my part not to check on things personally." The head operative slumped to the floor as the pulse of energy hit him in the chest.

"I understand how difficult it is to remember to check on every little detail," he assured the unconscious Cardassian.

Khan keyed the door open and smiled when he saw who was on the other side.

"I had not thought we would meet again until after the battle," Khan stated cheerfully.

"As I said: My place is by your side, Great Khan," T'Pera said simply.

IIIIIIIIII

Gul Hadar didn't know weather he should scream or cry or sink into despair as the door to the bridge glowed redder and redder as the rebels tried to burn their way in.

"Ten unknown ships have just warped in…ten more…ten…sir, there are hundreds of them," Tactical reported, sounding lost.

"Security reports that they can be here in five minutes, sir," communications stated, privately sneering at the man's optimism.

"We're not going to be here in five minutes." He drew his disruptor. "I suggest putting two shots through the door and the third through your head. Better a clean death here than being ripped apart by an angry mob or being sentenced to death by a filthy Klingon." Unfortunately for him, his plans were disrupted by the appearance of gas cylinders in the middle of the room. The bridge was taken without loss on either side.

IIIIIIIIII

Khan's smile widened when he rejoined the people he'd been captured with and was able to see for himself that none of them had been harmed during their brief period of captivity.

"I do not recognize you," the great man stated upon seeing that he had one extra.

"He's the one who stunned the guards and helped us escape, Captain," one of his shipmates said helpfully.

"Yes," the Vulcan agreed. "I was also heavily involved in the plot to take your life."

"I see. May I ask what it was that made you change your mind?" Khan asked curiously.

"I did not change my mind. I stated that I was involved, I never stated that I supported it," the Vulcan clarified. "Initially, I had only intended to deceive the other plotters until I had a chance to inform my wife of what I learned. At her request, I remained part of the conspiracy. She told me you were aware of it."

"Aware of it yes, of your part in it no," Khan replied. "I assume she decided that I did not have the need to know."

"That is a logical assumption," the Vulcan allowed.

"She is a fine, dispassionate woman. You are fortunate to have her," Khan stated.

"I am," the Vulcan agreed. "Our parents showed unusual ability when aranging our match."

"May I ask why this particular group of plotters tried to have me killed?"

"They stated that you were both a disruptive influence on the Federation and a danger to peace between the Federation and the Cardassian Union." The Vulcan exhaled. "Their logic was persuasive, but their actions were unethical. Logic can-not be the sole arbiter of one's actions. It is unfortunate that my former colleagues forgot that." He tilted his head and decided not to add that there were times when an individual may be called upon to do things that were distasteful to protect the Federation. It was fortunate for Khan that this was not one of those times. 'We also serve who work in the shadows,' the Vulcan thought to himself. In some ways, he regretted the fact that the plotters had had the poor sense to chose him as their agent. It was a consequence of the fact that his cover had been crafted to make him as attractive as possible he supposed. As he said, a shame. He was going to miss being Kuvok the diplomat; it had been a nice change from the usual routine.

Khan nodded his agreement before shifting his attention to one of his boarders, the great-granddaughter of one of his original men, who had approached in the company of what appeared to be one of the local resistance fighters.

"This is Kira Nerys of the Shakaar resistance cell," the marine introduced the woman.

"It is a great honor and a pleasure to meet you, Kira Nerys," Khan said grandly.

"Mighty Khan," the woman began with a smile as wide as his own. "I have the privilege of informing you that your promise has been kept, Terok Nor is ours and Bajor is free again. Thank you, sir, from the deepest part of my heart, thank you."

IIIIIIIIII

Dukat frowned in annoyance at how long it took for the station to reply to his ship's request for docking instructions. Make one short trip back to the home world to give a report on how he had the rebellion well in hand and the idiots he'd left behind forgot what discipline was.

"Hail them again," he ordered. "Tell them that I am on board and that I will demote whoever is supposed to be on duty one rank for every ten seconds they make us wait and have them thrown out an airlock when they run out of rank to lose."

"Yes, Gul," the communications officer agreed. "I'm getting a response," he said in relief.

Dukat's look on annoyance turned into confusion when he saw that the bridge was manned by a mix of humans, Cardassians, and Bajorans. That confusion turned to shock and then rage when he recognized the elderly human sitting in his chair.

"Hello, Dukat," the elderly human said with a wide grin. "I think you can guess what my presence here means. You have ten seconds to power down your shields before we open fire."

"KHAAAAAAAN!" Dukat bellowed in rage, his face locked in a rictus of hate. "KHAAAAAAAN!" 

-The End-

AN: So, here it is. I may or may not write more in this universe, the attempted assassination and coup against Azetbur, the Romulans moving against the Cardassians, the behind the scenes moves in the Empire in support of Bajor, the fact that they have to hold Bajor now that they've taken it. Many many possibilities. Feel free to write in this universe if you want.

This chapter dedicated to the memory of Bobmin356.

I'm always willing to give credit where credit is due and blame where credit is due so here it is:

Based on an idea originally proposed by Jenny_Lou and filled with plot points thought up by doghead_thirteen aka Cal who is also wholly responsible for most of what went into this version of Khan and giving this its title along with a good portion of the plot, a number of scenes, and anything else he wishes to claim or I wish to blame him for. Hell, he's got co-author credit if he wants it.

Speaking of co-author credit, in large part this is a collaborative effort on the part of my yahoo group. I've tried to list the people who helped with it but I'm sure I got only a small portion of them, in many cases someone would say something that would spark an idea that would lead to another that would prompt an idle comment that would spark another idea that would make its way here. So, to simplify things, everyone on the CaerAzkaban group deserves some credit and/or blame for this.

Lots of polish/typo removal along with a pile of suggestions on how to improve things and several lines/scene suggestions by Luan Mao AKA computercondottiere. My drafts looked like a rainbow had vomited on them after he was done with them. He was relentless and any typos you might find aren't because he didn't find them, but because I mistakenly didn't fix them. Did a very professional job for me and I can not recommend him enough. You get the opportunity to work with him, take it.

Several scene rewrites, scenes, and Ideas by Cal

Beta, scenes, scene rewrites, and several titles by dogbertcarroll. Who's value to this fic and almost every other fic I do can not be overstated.

Typos by Mr Bear, laros_deejay, Ronnie McMains, Jim Compton, hsssai, meteoricshipyards, djhardim, lucindas43302, mjihde, stormkitsune, Andrew Chapman, Ronnie McMains

Disclaimer by meteoricshipyards

Line by laros_deejay

Line corrected by KenF

Ideas by ecs_norway, Keith McComb, mohara222m, Veive, polychromeknight, michaelsuave, Tenhawk, Dennis Sicz,

Continuity Details by meteoricshipyards, hsssai, shayterit, ericoppen

There were a number of Omake in this fic. Some were written by me some by others. Some are not in the fic because of timing or continuity issues, some are not in the fic because they don't fit, some are in the fic but not in the forms you saw at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoyed them.

Omake by diresquirrel

(This is where I got the ending)

"At last we have you, Khan," the Cardassian interrogator said. "We have sought you for years, human. You hunt us down, try to drive us away like an infected Klingon warg. But that all ends now."

Khan looked up at the Cardassian and grinned. It was not a particularly nice grin. The elderly man wrenched his bound hand, ignoring the bits of skin it dragged away and the sound as the manacle was torn free. The interrogator looked on in horror as the old man stood up.

"That was designed to hold a Klingon!" the interrogator sputtered. "You're only a human!"

"Oh, yes, my people are human, but something more, Cardassian," Khan saidas he backhanded the man, sending him flying to the floor. "You thought you were lucky in capturing me and my crew. You were incorrect. Perhaps you should have studied the Earth myth of the Trojan Horse."

Khan stood over the fallen man and grinned as his people arrived.

"Great Khan, we've taken the facility," a younger augment said. "The weapons systems and communications are under our control. Our people are currently giving aid to the freed Bajoran slaves in the mining facilities."

"And the docked ships?" their leader asked as he firmly set a foot on his "interrogator's" neck.

"Neutralized, but we have Bajoran Resistance fighters ready to take command of them, Great Khan," the younger augment reported. "The _Amistad_ is repaired and ready to depart on your orders."

"Good," Khan said as he snapped the neck of the Cardassian struggling beneath him. "I want to see Dukat's face when I tell him Terok Nor is under our control and Bajor is finally free."

Omake: Tom Paris

It was the usual blather; honor, duty, sacrifice, and courage. Words many Starfleet officers, including his father, liked to think defined the service, liked to pretend were their exclusive preserve. Tom caught the eye of one of the engineering cadets in the front row and got a nod and a wink in return.

"-which is why." He turned off his mental autopilot. "I can not in good conscience accept a commission as a Starfleet officer. I stand with Khan!" a small portion of his mind noted with glee the look on his father's face. "STAND WITH KHAN!"

"STAND WITH KHAN!" the engineer screamed. "STAND WITH KHAN!" A few other cadets took up the call but it was nothing like what it would have been when his father was a cadet. Rumor had it that Starfleet had increased the screening process to keep people like him from passing further than a summer in beast barracks. The truth was, in the current era, most sympathizers were grown in the fleet, those that came through the academy tended to keep their heads down till they had a chance to graduate and start their careers away from the rear.

It hadn't been easy to angle his way into the giving the graduation speech. It had taken a reputation for political reliability, his father's connections, and too many hours of study when he could have been partying. It had been at least a decade and a half since any cadet had made a big dramatic gesture like the one he'd just made. But, after seeing the look on Admiral Paris' face, it had all been worth it. It felt good to finally get back at the old man.

AN: Was half tempted to write another scene in which the Admiral expresses regrets that Tom didn't spend a few years in the fleet working to change things before joining Khan, but that he couldn't blame his son for doing something he'd wanted to do himself for several decades. Decided I liked it better without that scene.

Omake: Q

Khan opened his eyes to a world of white. It was odd, it was as if he were everywhere and nowhere at all. The last thing he remembered was . . .

"Congratulations!" a man dressed to fit into his crew shouted.

"Thank you, but for what?"

"For a good life lived, for great deeds done, for darings done, for everything."

"I was not a great man," Khan replied.

"No," the being agreed. "No, you were something far rarer: a good man."

"I did nothing more than what my conscience required me to do, what any decent individual would have done if they had my abilities and resources."

"Perhaps a quick look at how things would have been without you to help things along," the being mused.

"Are things better than would have otherwise been the case?" Khan asked curiously.

"Quite a bit."

"Then I am satisfied," Khan smiled.

"You don't want to know how much better things are thanks to your actions?"

"All I ever wanted was to make the world a better place, knowing I did so is enough."

AN: Idea and much of the dialog by Michael O'Hara, below dialog by Michael O'Hara

Bajoran Prophets: "Are you done yet?"

Q: "I'll be done in a minute! Wait your turn!"

Khan: "Is something wrong?"

Q: "You attracted a lot of attention on the higher planes, and there are many who wish to congratulate the man of the hour."

AU Omake: Khan arrives a decade or four later

"Captain, I am detecting the arrival of at least two thousand ships," Data reported.

"On screen," Picard said, outwardly calm, inwardly jumping for joy.

"They appear to be troop transports, sir," Data stated.

Picard smiled. "It appears someone else has learned about what is happening to this planet and decided to do something about it."

"We're just going to stand by and watch them violate the Prime Directive?" Riker asked, sounding like he was reading from a script.

"The Prime Directive applies only to Starfleet personnel. As those do not appear to be Fleet ships, we have no choice but to stand aside or risk violating the Prime Directive ourselves, Number One."

"Yes, Captain," Riker agreed.

"Hail them."

An elderly but still spry looking human woman appeared on the screen.

"Madame Delacroix, so good to see you again," Picard said.

"Jean Luc," the woman replied.

"I fear I must file an official protest for your actions towards the Boraalans." The man paused. "You are here to evacuate the race in advance of its planet's becoming uninhabitable, are you not?"

"We are, Jean Luc," she agreed. "I feel I must rely our official position that we are again disgusted by the fact that Starfleet is again seen to stand in witness to the death of a sentient species due to the Prime Directive."

"Noted."

The transmission ended and Picard let his gaze sweep over the bridge crew. "If I find out any member of my crew was responsible for the presence of Khan's ships they will be punished to the full extent of Starfleet regulations," Picard said firmly.

IIIIIIIIII

"You would really punish the crew for saving a race, Captain?" Riker asked.

"No member of the crew was responsible, Number One."

"How can you be so sure, sir?"

"Because I contacted Madame Delacroix myself." He snorted. "Five minutes before you did, I might add."

"We don't all have your experience in making untraceable communications, sir," Riker pointed out.

"Do your best to check the crew, if any of them did not at least make an attempt to do something, I want to know about it."

"Yes, sir."

"And I want them off my ship."

Addition by yamaban7010

"Why, sir?"

"They can do their indifference elsewhere. We are Frontline, not backyard hooligans. Give them to the 'Supply and Maintenance Crews' for the established stations. Nothing else matters to Starfleet command, so there they go. Let command deal with their own indifference."

"Aye, sir! Ah, by chance, did you have contact with Khan, in the last time?"

Continuation by me, Omake: Worf

"Three I'm sure about, sir," Riker reported. "One I'm iffy about."

"Who's the odd man out, number one?"

"Worf, sir."

IIIIIIIIII

"Mr. Worf, did you communicate in any way with Khan's people?"

"No, sir, I did not."

The Captain frowned in disappointment. "Then I'm afraid . . . did you abet your brother in any way?"

"I may have borrowed one of the portable long range communications relays, sir," Worf admitted. "But it was under the strict understanding that he was only to use it to contract our parents."

"Really, Mr. Worf?"

"I gave him detailed instructions on what not to do, sir," Worf agreed.

Riker snorted in amusement. "Instructions like, don't hit that button . . . right, now don't type in the series of numbers I'm about to read off?"

"Something like that, sir," Worf agreed. "I am within the letter of Starfleet regulations."

"Good man, Mr. Worf," Picard said with a grin. "Remind me to put a commendation in your file for managing to resist the temptation to violate the Prime Directive. Actually, number one, I want you to be sure every man on the ship receives a similar commendation."

"At once, sir. Does that include the three crewmen we're transferring off?"

"I'll take care of those ones myself," Picard said ominously.


End file.
